In A Different Lifetime
by Mersang
Summary: AU. What would Harry's life have been like if the Dursley's were more or less okay with magic? ABANDONED, BEING WORKED OUT AS A BETTER THOUGHT-OUT STORY!
1. Discovered on the Doorstep

**Summary:** Alternate Universe. What would Harry's life have been like if the Dursleys were more-or-less okay with magic? A tad corny, but work with me here.

**Warning 1:** Several characters have completely different personalities from their book/movie counterparts.

**Warning 2:** I am not British, and so attempts to make this sound British will probably be horrendous.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing in this story, except for a few incantations which I made up. Anything recognizable from books or movies belongs to JKR.

* * *

**Chapter One: Discovered on the Doorstep**

Petunia Dursley shrieked with alarm at the sight of the bundle on her doorstep. Within seconds, her husband Vernon was downstairs, wielding a lamp from their bedroom like a sword. The bundle began crying.

"What is it, Petunia?" Vernon demanded, lowering the lamp. Petunia picked up the bundle, shaking. A letter fell out. Wordlessly, she passed the bundle to Vernon and picked the letter up.

Mrs Petunia Dursley 

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

_Dear Mrs Dursley,_

_I regret to inform you of the demise of your sister, Lily Potter, and brother-in-law, James Potter. I realise that this will come as a great shock, but they were murdered in their home last night. It has been determined safest for their son, your nephew Harry, to remain with his blood relatives, rather than sending him to an orphanage. As he has no relatives whatsoever on his father's side, he will be staying with you and your family._

_Many charms are in place to ensure that no harm comes to your home or family so long as he stays there, minimizing any risks. Dark wizards are after your nephew, but rest assured that we have taken every precaution to ensure his and your safety. Blood magic will protect you all._

_Regretfully,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Petunia dropped the letter as if she had been burned, backed away from it, and slammed the door shut.

"What is it, Petunia?" Vernon repeated.

"Lily's dead," said Petunia numbly. She couldn't believe it. Lily was dead. Her sister, one of life's constants. True, she hadn't gotten along very well with Lily, but she had never thought about her being _gone_, either. Tears began leaking out of Petunia's eyes as she took her still-wailing nephew from Vernon's uncertain grip.

Vernon frowned. He could guess where this was going. "That's her son?" he asked warily. Petunia nodded. Now Vernon _knew_ where this was going. "Why would _we_ have to take him? Can't he go with one of… their kind?"

"The… the letter said he would be safest with a blood relative. There isn't anyone else."

"I'm not having one of those _freaks_ under this roof!"

"VERNON DURSLEY! Harry is a _baby_. It's not his fault that he was born abnormal. If we can get him to control it, I'm sure everything will be fine."

"What about Dudley? It's not safe for him!"

Petunia hesitated. "I.. I think that there may be something odd about Dudley already."

"_WHAT_?"

"He throws his toys around all night, but they're all in the cradle in the morning. The taps keep getting blocked whenever he doesn't want to take a bath. If he doesn't like a type of baby food, suddenly all the jars of it are missing. I've wanted to tell you, but I was worried it might be too stressful."

"So, instead, you decide to tell me now. Bloody brilliant of you, Petunia. When could be a less stressful time then right after finding out we've been burdened with _your_ _sister's_ child?"

"What other choice do we have? I refuse to send my blood to an orphanage."

"Fine. Keep the little weirdo. But I refuse to have any more to do with him than I have to." Vernon went back upstairs. "I'm going to work."

Petunia sighed and looked down at the baby. As his wails had not met results, he had quieted down, and was now whimpering. "Where Mummy?" he pleaded.

"Your Mummy's gone," Petunia whispered. "Your Mummy can't come back."

After a few minutes, she put him in Dudley's playpen in the living room, and then went up to get Dudley. When she went upstairs, she found her son sitting up in his cradle, staring at the door. He'd been doing that a lot lately, no matter how early she came in. Both boys were unnaturally silent as she put them in the playpen together.

"Hi," said Dudley finally. Harry didn't respond. Dudley grabbed a large teddy bear, dragged it over to his cousin, and dumped it in Harry's lap. There was no reaction. Dudley crawled to the other side of the playpen and began playing with a toy boat. Harry suddenly clung to the teddy as though his life depended on it.

* * *

Around mid-afternoon, the doorbell rang. Petunia, upon answering, discovered a man whom she had met once before, when her parents had convinced her to attend Lily's wedding.

"Remus Lupin?"

"Hullo, Petunia. Er… I realize that I'm not really welcome around you and Vernon but… well… I'd like to see Harry," he stammered.

Petunia nodded. It might be good for the oddly quiet boy to see a familiar face. "Come in. Tea?"

"If it's not to much trouble."

Petunia led him into the living room. Normally, she wouldn't have let anyone wearing robes into her house, but she had met three of James' closest friends at the wedding, and Remus had struck her as one of the most trust-worthy people she had ever met.

"Moony!" Harry cried, pulling himself into a half-standing position with the walls of the playpen. Remus lifted him out, and Harry clung to him. "Where Daddy?" he asked. Remus looked as if he were about to cry. He whispered softly into Harry's ear, and although Petunia couldn't hear what he said, she did catch an 'I'm sorry,' and assumed that Remus was apologizing for not taking Harry in.

"Thank you," Remus said softly to Petunia, putting Harry back in the playpen. "Um… if you need a babysitter or something for him, I'm in the neighbourhood." He handed her a slip of paper, with his name, a street address and a telephone number on it. "Strange coincidence, but, erm." He awkwardly stopped talking. "I'd better go." He darted out the door before Petunia could say anything.

* * *

Two weeks later found 4 Privet Drive to be a completely different home. Petunia had gone through all the photo albums, and any with Lily in them were framed and placed on the mantelpiece or walls. The empty room next to Dudley's had become Harry's bedroom, and Remus Lupin was visiting regularly. Dudley and Harry had become almost inseparable, and both were bursting with 'accidental' magic. Few days went past without one or both of them levitating something, changing a toy's colour/size, or (in Dudley's case) deliberately braking something and then fixing it by magic. No amount of baby-proofing could keep the breakables unbroken.

Then, on the exact two week anniversary of Harry's arrival, the front lawn was mobbed with wizard reporters. Vernon had to call in sick because they couldn't open the door without reporters trying to get inside.

Remus, who had Apparated into the living room when Petunia called him to ask for help, quickly figured out a solution.

"ALRIGHT, CLEAR OFF, ALL OF YOU!" he roared through an open window. "YOU'RE BREAKING THE INTERNATIONAL STATUTE OF SECRECY, TALKING ABOUT ALL THIS IN A MUGGLE AREA! GET OUT, BEFORE THE LOT OF YOU END UP IN AZKABAN!"

The reporters looked stunned for a moment, before Disapparating as one.

"Thanks, Remus," said Vernon. He had quite warmed up to the wizard, after the frosty first meeting.

"No problem. I was never too fond of the _Daily_ _Prophet_. You're lucky none of them thought to Apparate inside."

"If they had, then they could have been arrested."

"True."

_Crash!_ "Dudley!" Petunia shrieked. "I said not to touch Mummy's vase!"

* * *

**A/N:** So, what do you think of my first attempt at Harry Potter fanfiction? (Keep in mind that the story isn't done, and granting me the artistic license to change character attitudes.)

A) Excellent, this is even better than your other stories!

B) It's good, keep it up.

C) It's okay, but I prefer your Animorphs fics.

D) NO! IT'S HORRIBLE! DON'T EVEN TRY TO FINISH THIS, DELETE IT NOW!

E) You are a horrible writer, whose fics totally stink, and should not be allowed on or anywhere else. (If you select this please explain why the heck you read this far.)


	2. Summer and School

**A/N:** Since I'm lazy, the disclaimer in the first chapter will work for the whole story.

* * *

**Summer and School**

Five-year-old cousins Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley raced each other down the stairs.

"Boys, be careful! You'll break your necks!" cried an alarmed Petunia.

"We'll be fine, Auntie!" Harry yelled, before he tripped, crashed into his cousin, and made them both fall the rest of the way down the stairs. Petunia came running out of the kitchen to find the boys hovering a foot off the ground. Dudley's face was scrunched up with concentration as he lowered himself and Harry gently to the floor. "I told you we'd be fine," Harry told his aunt as he got up.

"Please tell me you won't be doing that at Uncle Remus' place. He'll have a heart attack—_I_ nearly did."

"We'll be good, Mummy," said Dudley, as serious as a five-year-old could be. It was mid-August, and it had become a sort of tradition for Dudley and Harry to spend the week of August farthest from the full moon at Remus' house. They had first done it when they were three, at Remus' insistence that they needed a wizard's influence to help control their powers, and Vernon and Petunia could use a week to themselves anyhow. Neither boy wanted to lose this privilege.

Two small trunks came floating down the stairs. Petunia frowned. Remus had told her how rare it was to be able to control magic without a wand. Most wandless magic was the result of strong emotions. Children tended to have problems with it, because of temper tantrums and such. Dudley and Harry, however, were unnaturally adept at it. There had been a few close calls, when neighbours had seen one or both of them doing magic, but so far Vernon passed all questions off as 'a trick of the light.'

Dudley's trunk was lowered to the floor. "Sorry, Mummy. It's easier to float them than carry them." Flushing at his cousin's words, Harry also lowered his trunk.

* * *

The man that the boys called 'Uncle Remus' Apparated into the living room after they finished breakfast. He was instantly tackled by two boys, two trunks, and cup of tea that had been caught in Dudley's wake. Luckily he caught the teacup, or he would have been scalded.

"Can't you ever just use the door?" asked Vernon, barely holding back laughter as he rescued the werewolf from the youngsters.

"Where's the fun in that?" asked Remus. "Is this your tea?" Vernon shook his head.

"Petunia made it for you. She figured you would need it."

"Thank you, Petunia." Remus bowed to the woman now standing in the doorway. "Ready to go, boys?"

"Yeah! Are we taking a Portkey?" demanded Harry.

"Are you going to teach us Apparition?" asked Dudley hopefully.

"Are we riding broomsticks?"

"Are we taking the Knight Bus?"

"Are we using the Floo Network?" The adults laughed at the children's excitement.

"Portkey, this time," said Remus. He held out a scrap of paper. Harry and Dudley grabbed their trunks, waved to Vernon and Petunia, called out "See you next week!" and were gone.

* * *

They reappeared in Remus' living room. It was sparsely furnished, but the well-worn furniture had a friendly, welcoming air to it, as did the red-and-gold wallpaper.

"Welcome back," said Remus, hugging them both. "You two should dump your trunks in your room. Then, I've got a surprise."

The boys looked at each other, grinned, and sent their trunks flying to the bedroom they'd slept in on their other two visits. Remus blinked. The boys waited. They looked so different. Dudley was big for his age, withbright yellow hair, blue eyes, and slightly pointed ears. He looked like a Muggle's idea of a fairy. Harry was a tad small, looked a lot like his father (though no glasses… yet, anyway), and had his mother's bright jade eyes. In the winter, his hair darkened to jet-black, but spending most of summer outside bleached it to an extremely dark auburn.

"Well… we're going to Diagon Alley!"

The boys cheered. Remus had told them about Diagon Alley, but Petunia had been against them actually going there on the grounds that Harry would have been mobbed. (Remus had told Harry about the whole Boy-Who-Lived situation, but he had described the fame as an annoyance, and Harry had adopted this perspective.)

"Hold still, Harry." Remus added. He pulled what looked like a vial of putty from his pocket, and carefully applied it to Harry's scar. The putty became the colour of Harry's skin, efficiently masking his identity. "There, that should do it. We'll be using Floo powder—just say 'Diagon Alley', and you'll arrive at the Leaky Cauldron." He sent the boys ahead, then entered the fire himself. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the boys waiting for him.

Remus had to keep a firm grip on both boys' hands to keep them from running off. He was trapped in _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ for over an hour. Only the offer of ice cream budged the boys from that store.

* * *

Early the next morning, Dudley and Harry woke up and decided to play in the backyard until Remus woke up. Their idea of playing was to try and cast spells on whatever was handy. Harry gathered a bunch of rocks and twigs from Remus' garden. Dudley turned one of them blue, and made another one fly. Harry was focused on one stick, and one only. Dudley was working on keeping the flying rock in the air and changing the colour of the blue rock to purple at the same time, when Harry yelped with excitement.

"What did you do?" Dudley asked, forgetting about his rocks.

"I made a puppy!" Harry cheered. Sure enough, there was a red puppy wagging its tail at them. "Her name's Cherry."

"Wow. Can she fetch?"

Harry picked up another stick. "Fetch!" he ordered the dog, throwing the stick across the yard. Cherry ran after it. She returned with the stick in her mouth, her tail wagging, and a triumphant expression. Dudley and Harry clapped, and Harry threw the stick again.

Suddenly, Cherry tore out of the backyard, barking her head off. Harry chased her, yelling random commands: "Stop! Sit! Roll over! Shake hands! Down, girl!" Dudley chased his cousin, yelling "Wait up!" and "She's after Mrs Figg's cat!"

When the dog finally did stop, she continued to bark up the tree at the terrified feline. The cat hissed down at Cherry. The boys vaguely recognized the cat as Tibbles.

"Mrs Figg's going to be mad," Dudley whispered.

"Mrs Figg's not going to know," said Harry firmly. "Cherry! COME HERE!"

The dog ignored him. Harry sighed, ran over, and picked up the small puppy. "We should go back, Uncle Remus'll be worried."

* * *

Remus was more than worried. He was frantic. "WHERE WERE YOU?" he demanded. "I WAS PANICKING! I THOUGHT I'D HAVE TO EXPLAIN TO VERNON AND PETUNIA THAT I'D LOST YOU! I NEARLY CALLED THE POLICE!"

"We were chasing Cherry," said Harry meekly.

"_Who_?" Harry held up the dog.

"Harry made her out of a stick. She was chasing Mrs Figg's cat," Dudley offered.

Remus eyed Harry sceptically. "You turned a stick into a puppy?"

"Yup."

"You're joking."

"Nope."

"Change it back."

"But that'll kill her!"

Remus sighed. The last thing he needed was for Harry to have a temper tantrum. "Fine. Both of you, stay right where you are."

"Okay."

Remus went over to his telephone and dialled the Dursleys' number. "Hello, Vernon. No, nothing's wrong, but… how do you and Petunia feel about dogs? Oh. That's not good, because Harry says that he's turned a stick into a puppy. I know he's only five, I'm in shock too! I suppose I could keep it… He'd never change it back, he says that would kill the puppy. They're fine, both of them. Good-bye, Vernon." He hung up.

"Can we move now?" asked Dudley.

"Yes. Look, Harry, you can't keep the puppy."

"Why not?"

"Because your aunt doesn't like animals in the house."

"But Cherry'll be good."

"I'm sure she will, but you can't keep her."

"I'm not making her a stick again!"

"Relax, Harry, I'll keep her. Take it easy. You don't have to change her back. Just help train her, and we'll call it even, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

August passed, and September found Harry and Dudley attending school. On October first, Vernon and Petunia received a note from the teacher.

_Dudley and Harry are both wonderful kids,_ (the teacher wrote)_ but they aren't socializing as well as they could with the other children. It might be a good idea for them to be in separate classes in the future, if only so that they make friends instead of clinging to each other. Also, Harry squints quite a bit. I think he may need glasses._

"I don't want glasses!" Harry protested. "I'll look like a dork."

"_Harry James Potter!_ Where did you learn that word?" demanded Petunia.

"One of the older boys called a kid in glasses a dork at lunch, we heard him," said Dudley.

"You'll look fine," said Vernon firmly. "You'll be able to see much more clearly, too."

"You're father wore glasses," Petunia pointed out, hoping to pacify her nephew. "Besides, you can choose the frames, so they'll look good on you."

"Isn't there a spell Uncle Remus could cast that'd fix my eyes?"

"No." Petunia didn't know if this was true or not, but she didn't like the idea of Remus casting spells on Harry's eyes.

* * *

"Hey, Harry. Nice glasses," said Remus, Apparating into the living room once again. It was nearly Christmas, and he had come over to drop off presents.

Harry's glasses had gold frames, no rims around the lenses, and lenses in the shape of rectangles with rounded corners. They were rather hard to notice, which was probably the whole point.

"Thanks, Uncle Remus. Happy Christmas."

"And to you. Glad school's out for the holidays?"

"No! I miss it. So does Dudley. We can't wait for January. Christmas _is_ fun, though," Harry added as an after thought. "I can't wait 'till then, either!"

"You seem a mighty impatient little man, Harry."

"Yup. How's Cherry?"

"She's fine. It's actually kind of nice, having a dog."

"I told you she'd be good. AUNT PETUNIA! UNCLE VERNON! DUDLEY! UNCLE REMUS IS HERE!"

* * *

Before anyone jumps down my throat about the Cherry thing, this is AU, meaning alternate universe, so yes, Harry _can_ turn a stick into a puppy, and in _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_, Remus says that a werewolf is only a danger to people, so Cherry is perfectly safe with him. 


	3. Six Years Later

A/N: Harry and Dudley might sound older than they are, but that's how my ten-year-old cousin talks, so maybe he's precocious or something. I don't know when the full moons actually were, except in book three, so I'm guessing at it. Some bits are quoted from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_.

* * *

**Six Years Later…**

Dudley was staring hard at the mail slot, as if he thought that this would make the postman arrive faster.

"Today, today, today, please be today…" he muttered.

Harry came to sit by his cousin's side, offering the blonde boy a plate of toast. "Auntie says you're not to starve yourself just because you want to get your letter as soon as you can."

_Flit_. Several letters were pushed through the slot. Dudley snatched them. "YES! They're here! They're finally here!" In his hands were two thick envelopes, addressed in green ink.

Harry found his letter being shoved into his hand as Dudley tore his own open. He covered his ears, as his cousin's shouts of joy were being made about three feet away.

Just as when they were five, the boys looked wildly different from each other. At a glance, one would never realize that they were related. Dudley had short yellow hair, sapphire eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and intelligence, slightly pointed ears, and muscles that made the eleven-year-old look like a short sixteen-year-old. And not a very short one, at that.

Harry actually looked his age. His dark, nearly black auburn hair was grown long to make it stay flat. He wore gold-framed glasses with no rims—the lenses were rectangles with rounded corners. Behind these were vivid jade eyes. On his forehead was a thin scar shaped like a lightening bolt.

Both boys, however, gave identical whoops of excitement as they raced into the kitchen.

"Indoor voices, boys," said Petunia absentmindedly. "You got your letters, then?"

"Can we call Uncle Remus?" asked Harry.

Petunia glanced at the calendar. "Well, since the full moon was two weeks ago… I suppose."

Dudley was already on the phone. "Hey, Uncle Remus! It's Dudley. We just got the letters! Yes, Mum said we could go to Diagon Alley as soon as we got them… Great!" Dudley hung up. "He's on his way over."

Remus arrived a few minutes later. At Vernon's request, he no longer Apparated directly into the living room, but his house wasn't that far of a walk. As always, the werewolf was nearly knocked over by the two boys the second he got inside.

"Oof! You boys need to think of a better way to say 'hello'. Hi, Petunia."

"Hello, Remus. Ready to guide two junior Marauder's through buying school supplies?"

Remus groaned. "I should have known they'd cling to that phrase… I'm as ready as I'll ever be, I suppose. Of course, you and Vernon will have to come along, to create Gringotts accounts for them."

"Well, they'll still need you along, if only to make sure that they don't prank everything in sight."

"Hey!" Harry grumbled in protest. "We cover _one teacher_ in molasses and feathers, and they never let us forget it!"

"It _was_ just last month. They deserve to be suspicious—remember the Chocolate Pudding Incident?" asked Dudley.

"Wasn't that an accident?"

"Since people allowed to punish us are in earshot… yes. It was a complete accident. But do the words 'Whoopee Cushion' ring a bell?"

"That was you, just you, immature, and gross."

"You laughed!"

"We were eight. It was the highlight of my year."

"Well, we'd better go," said Remus, seemingly not noticing the half-whispered conversation.

* * *

"Well, that's about it. I'm surprised we haven't run into anyone I know yet," commented Remus. "Just the wands and animals left."

"Animals?" repeated Petunia.

"Students may also bring an owl _or_ a cat _or_ a toad," Remus quoted. "I recommend that they both get owls—they can carry letters and everything. Wands, first, though." He led them into a shop whose sign read _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC_.

The inside was filled with dusty shelves and long, thin boxes. The air seemed to tingle with some secret magic. There was the atmosphere of a particularly strict library.

Mr Ollivander turned out to be an old man with pale silver eyes. After making a speech about how the wands were constructed, describing Remus' wand, and measuring the boys in the strangest ways (ex: knee to armpit), he started testing them with the wands.

"Willow and unicorn hair…"

"Ash and dragon heartstring…"

"Perhaps _oak_ and dragon heartstring…"

After what felt like forever, a holly wand with a phoenix feather core responded to Dudley. Gold sparks covered the entire shop. Mr Ollivander looked surprised. "Curious," he muttered. "Very curious indeed."

"What is?"

"The phoenix, whose tail feather is in your wand, gave _one_ other feather for a wand core. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. A very powerful wand…" he turned to Harry. "The one that gave you that scar."

Remus sucked in a sharp breath behind Harry's back. "Is that bad?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. As He Who Must Not Be Named no longer has that wand, who can say?"

Dudley may have found his wand, but none seemed willing to react to Harry. "Almost as though _your_ wand has already been purchased…" said Mr Ollivander. He frowned, thinking hard. "A moment," he announced, and slipped into the bowels of his shop.

"Try this," he said softly as he returned. Harry took the wand, and a strange, shimmering light filled the shop. Now Mr Ollivander looked scared.

"What's the matter, sir?" asked Harry.

"Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. As I said," he whispered. "He Who Must Not Be Named no longer has his wand. Traditionally, when a wizard dies, his wand is buried with him - for reasons I cannot fathom, this one was sent back here."

Harry dropped the wand and stepped back. "That's the wand that killed my parents?"

Mr Ollivander picked it up, dusted it off, and held it out. "See that you show more restraint with it, Mr Potter."

* * *

Harry stopped pacing and sat down. He shivered as he looked at the wand in his hand. Gabriel, his male snowy owl, flew to his shoulder and hooted comfortingly. Harry put his wand down and reached up to stroke the soft feathers.

Petunia was still against having animals in the house, and had only agreed to let them have owls because the birds could spend most of the time outside. Dudley's tawny owl, Amber, was perched in a tree outside, in the backyard.

Harry and Dudley had both read all their schoolbooks over the past two months. Harry was wary about using his wand to practise magic, although Remus assured him that there was nothing to be afraid of. Cherry had gotten a hold of his wand while he and Dudley were visiting Remus, and buried it in the backyard. Harry hadn't been too worried—he and Dudley had enough skill with wandless magic that he didn't think a wand was necessary—but Remus had been mad.

"You can't lose your wand, Harry, you'll need it. There is no way you'll be allowed to stick with wandless magic at Hogwarts—it's too rare for you to get away with it. And while we're at it, no Parseltongue if you can avoid it."

"But what about if someone tries to prank me using a snake?"

"I really doubt that will happen."

"But what if it does?"

"Then only use Parseltongue if the snake is venomous."

"What if it's a giant Boa constrictor and it's strangling me?" Remus had rolled his eyes and dropped the issue.

Harry knew that he was being irrational, but he couldn't help fearing the wand that had ended his parents' lives. How was he supposed to just toss spells around with this… weapon? Mr Ollivander had said that the wand chose the wizard, and Harry was convinced that this wand had made a mistake. Was it sadistic or something?

How tempting it was to just snap the wand in half, burn it, stomp it, throw it away, get rid of it. Distance himself from the past as much as he could. It was painful enough when he'd gone to his parents' graves.

"Wands don't decide how they're used, even if they do pick their owners," Remus pointed out. "Just because Voldemort used that wand for dark magic doesn't make the wand itself a dark item."

"I can't use a _murder weapon _for_ school work_."

"Just try not to think about that sort of thing."

"It's not the sort of thing I can just ignore, Uncle Remus."

"Think about how it's connected to Dudley's wand, instead."

Harry sighed. "I'll try, Uncle Remus."

Well, as long as _he_ didn't try to hurt anyone with it, he supposed that things would be okay.

* * *

King's Cross train station was packed to the exploding point. Dudley was clinging to his trolley as he tried to get back to his family. Remus had already told him and Harry how to get through the barrier, so his parents were the only adults he knew at the station. Amber, in her cage atop his trunk, hooted and stuck her head under her wing, as though trying to block out the noise.

Jostled from all sides, he tried to reach the barrier between platforms nine and ten. He could see Harry slip through it, but no one else seemed to notice. The station clock said that he still had five minutes to get through.

"Excuse me," said a timid voice. Dudley turned to see a twitchy, bushy-haired brunette, whose eyes were flitting between him and Amber. "Can you tell me, er, how to get onto Platform 9 and ¾?"

"Sure, that's where I'm headed. If I can get through this crowd, anyway… You just walk straight for the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and you'll go right through it. My uncle, Remus, says that the school ought to send that information in the first-year letters, instead of just the platform number."

"I quite agree, no one in my family's magic at _all_, it was such a surprise to get the letter, but of course I was just _thrilled_…"

By now they'd gotten through the crowd and were approaching the barrier. "Uncle Remus says it's best to run through if you're nervous," said Dudley. The girl nodded and sprinted for the wall, with Dudley close behind her. There was a soft _whoosh_ as they passed through the barrier, and they were suddenly able to see the bright red Hogwarts Express.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced. Dudley Dursley." The blond wizard offered his hand to the brunette witch. She seized it eagerly.

"Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you."

"Dudley! There you are!"

"Hey, Harry! This is Hermione. Hermione, this is my cousin Harry."

Hermione had seen the scar. "Harry, as in Harry _Potter_? It's so wonderful to meet you, I've read all about you, is it all _true_? I mean, some of it sounds rather farfetched—"

Harry scowled. "If you don't mind, I'd rather _not_ talk about it."

"Oh—I'm so sorry, of course it's a sore subject for you—"

"We'd best get on the train. There're only two minutes until it leaves," said Dudley.

It took a while to get all three trunks and both owls onto the train. The three of them found an empty compartment near the end of the train.

After the train started moving, a gangly, freckled redheaded boy knocked on the compartment door. "Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

"Come on in," said Dudley. "I'm Dudley Dursley, that's my cousin Harry, and this is Hermione Granger."

"Ron Weasley." The redhead sat in the seat nearest the door. Outside the door appeared a girl with shiny black hair and midnight blue eyes, followed by a pale boy with white-blond hair and silver eyes.

"Any room in here?" asked the girl.

"So far," said Dudley. "I'm Dudley Dursley, that's my cousin Harry, that's Hermione, and that's Ron."

"My name's Sandra, and this is Drake."

"Hi," said the pale boy softly. He looked like he never went outside.

"So," said Harry, looking at the three newcomers, "any of you follow Quidditch?"

Sandra shook her head, and then, seeing Hermione confused look, explained to her what Quidditch was. Drake and Ron, however, both nodded.

"Chudley Cannons rule!" Ron declared.

Drake looked shocked. "And here I thought I was the only Cannons' fan alive."

* * *

Harry and Dudley were both awed by the Great Hall. Remus had described it to them, but no description could do the school justice. The ceiling was especially amazing. It looked as if the Hall simply opened to the heavens.

Professor McGonagall, a stern witch, placed an old, frayed hat on a three-legged stool. A tear at the brim opened like a mouth, and it began to sing.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge by what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folks use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The school broke into applause, and Professor McGonagall unrolled a scroll of parchment. "Abbot, Hannah!"

A girl with blonde pigtails approached the stool nervously. The Sorting Hat seemed to think for a moment before declaring "HUFFLEPUFF!" The table to the far left burst into applause.

A few names later: "Dursley, Dudley!"

Dudley calmly pulled on the Hat. Uncle Remus had a lot of faith in the Hat, and Dudley trusted it to put him in whichever house would suit him best.

"Hmm… intelligence and bravery. A sadly rare combination," whispered the Hat in Dudley's ear. "I think you'd do best in GRYFFINDOR!"

The table to the far right cheered, and Dudley went to sit next to "Brown, Lavender", who had been sorted three minutes earlier.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Granger, Hermione!"

The Sorting Hat took a few minutes this time. Finally, it declared "RAVENCLAW!", sending the table next to Gryffindor into a ruckus of applause.

"Longbottom, Neville" became a Gryffindor, "MacDougal, Morag" became a Ravenclaw, and "MacMillain, Ernie" became a Hufflepuff,and then Professor McGonagall called out "Malfoy, Draco!"

Drake went pink and slipped the Hat onto his head. Ron looked disgusted.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"He's a _Malfoy_?" Ron hissed incredulously. "That entire family's pure evil!"

Sandra gave Ron a Death Glare. "His _father_ is pure evil. _Drake_ is perfectly normal. That's why he didn't say his full name—he knew you'd judge him by it."

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat announce. The table between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff applauded politely. Ron looked like his worst fears had been confirmed.

"Name one wizard or witch who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin!" he challenged.

"Sirius Black," Harry cut in viciously. The name of his parents' betrayer left a bad taste in his mouth. "Mass murderer, Death Eater, Gryffindor." Ron looked shocked.

"Potter, Harry!" The Great Hall exploded into whispers.

"_Potter_, did she say?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

_So much for keeping inconspicuous,_ thought Harry, as people started craning their necks for a good look at him. He quickly pulled the hat most of the way over his head, so that no one would see him blush.

"Difficult," said a small voice in his ear. "Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So, I'll put you in… SLYTHERIN!"

More whispers erupted like hissing fires all over the Hall. Harry, still flushing, pulled off the Hat and went to sit across from Drake.

McGonagall glared at the whisperers, then read out "Quartz, Sandra!" Sandra took only five seconds to be Sorted—the Hat immediately cried out "SLYTHERIN!"

Harry and Drake cheered. There were only three students left. "Turpin, Lisa" was Sorted into Ravenclaw. "Weasley, Ron" broke a record in taking exactly three seconds to be Sorted. Harry noticed, as he watch Ron sit next to Dudley, that there were quite a few freckled redheads at the Gryffindor table.

"Zabini, Blaise" was also put into Slytherin, and the Sorting was over.

* * *

**A/N: **Before anyone asks, NO, Harry will NOT become evil just because he was sorted into Slytherin, and he and Dudley will NOT have a falling out just because Gryffindor and Slytherin tend not to like each other. The following chapters will show Harry and Dudley's separate first year days at Hogwarts, and a few letters home. Harry doesn't know about Sirius being innocent yet.


	4. First Half of First Year

**A/N:** Since she's the ONLY ONE REVIEWED THE LAST CHAPTER, this chapter is dedicated to Joan Mistress of Magic.

* * *

**The First Half Of First Year**

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore stood, eyes twinkling, arms wide, to address the school. "I have only a few words for you. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Food appeared on all the tables and the students applauded.

"Can you believe it?" one of the older Gryffindors asked another. "_Harry Potter_. In _Slytherin_."

Dudley bit his tongue. _Don't say anything. Don't call attention to yourself. It won't help anything._

"Are you okay?" asked Ron, sitting next to him.

"Just nervous. It's a lot to take in…" Dudley gestured helplessly around the Hall.

"Yeah, I guess." Ron began to cram food into his mouth.

At the Slytherin table, Harry was in a rather awkward position. Everyone stared at him, and no one — besides Drake and Sandra — seemed willing to talk to him. To buy himself some time before facing the stares of his housemates, he scanned the head table.

Professor McGonagall was sitting next to the headmaster. At the far end, Hagrid (whom, if memory served, was featured in many a Marauder story) was drinking something likely alcoholic. Closer to the Slytherin table was a nervous man in a large turban, who was speaking to a man with greasy black hair and a large nose.

"Who's the man in the turban?" Drake wondered.

"Professor Quirrell, the Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor. The man he's talking to is Professor Snape, Potions Master and our Head of House," said Sandra.

"How do you know that?"

"Mum told me about the current teachers so I would be prepared."

At the end of the feast, one of the older Slytherins stood up. A silver badge on his chest read _Prefect_. "First years, follow me," he said bluntly. Harry, Drake and Sandy ended up leading the knot of short, twitchy students.

"Being in Slytherin," the prefect snapped, as they arrived in the dungeons, "means that you are _targets_. The other houses are against us. Your fellow students will not hesitate to hex you. Do not expect to be babysat. Do not trust your fellow students. Do not trust the faculty. The staff is all prejudiced against us—and yes, that includes the headmaster. The only teachers you can trust are the former Slytherins, and right now, that's only Professor Snape, the Potions teacher. If there's a problem, go to him. _Only_ go to him." They stopped in front of a blank wall. "Manticore," said the older boy. The wall opened.

The room behind it looked a lot less foreboding than the others they had passed. It was lit by a roaring fire. Throughout the low room were ornately carved armchairs and round tables. The main colour scheme was green, black and silver.

"Girls' dorms are over there, boys' dorms are over there. This is the common room. It's strictly Slytherin territory, so it's the only place you don't need to worry about getting hexed. Unofficially, the dungeons are Slytherin territory, too. Got it?" The first years all nodded. Harry gulped. Uncle Remus had told him and Dudley that there was a lot of rivalry between the houses, but he hadn't thought that it was this severe.

After looking around to familiarize himself with the common room, Harry decided to go to bed. Two behemoths were standing dumbly in the middle of the dorm, looking lost—Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, if Harry's memory of the Sorting was right. Drake and the other two boys, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, had already chosen beds.

Drake gestured Harry to the bed next to his, with Harry's trunk already propped against its foot. Harry nodded his thanks. He quickly changed to his pyjamas and got into bed.

_Slytherin's not half as bad as Uncle Remus said,_ thought Harry drowsily. _A bit cold and abrupt, maybe, but not horrible. _Suddenly, he jerked back into awareness, and fought the urge to sit bolt upright. _Oh, no._ _Uncle Remus is not going to take this well._

Harry got up at 6 o'clock the next morning. He had to send a letter to Remus and explain things before Dudley did. By the time he was satisfied with it, it was 8 o'clock, and the other boys were waking up. He nodded as he looked over the finished letter. Assuming Remus read the whole thing, it should work. Harry felt a bit guilty about jerking Remus' heartstrings like this, but it was the best way to go. _Besides_, he told himself, _Slytherins have to be manipulative._

_

* * *

_

Remus Lupin winced as he awoke. Would it be too much for the moon to … explode, maybe? Get knocked out of orbit by a comet? Turn into the harmless cheese that so many Muggle children thought it was made of?

Apparently, it was. Remus had been grumbling about and cursing it for more years than he cared to count, yet it was still there.

Remus went to the kitchen for his traditional morning cup of tea. He drank tea more out of habit than of any real preference for the beverage now.

Two owls were perching on his kitchen table. One, a screech owl, carried a _Daily_ _Prophet_. Like drinking tea, Remus received the paper out of habit. He paid the owl, gave it an Owl Treat, and removed the paper. The other owl, a white one, Remus recognized as Harry's new owl, Gabriel. He gave the bird an Owl Treat as he removed the letter. Gabriel hooted a cheerful farewell and flew out the window as the lycanthrope sat down and unfolded the letter. Remus blinked in surprise. Why didn't Gabriel stay to take back his reply?

_Dear Uncle Remus,_

_Hogwarts is just as cool as you said it was. I know why you made the Map, it's impossible to find anything without getting lost. I'll probably get lost six times on the way to the Owlery to send this. I don't know if you've heard from Dudley yet, but we got Sorted into different Houses. He's in Gryffindor. I'm in Slytherin._

Remus' eyes went wide. Harry was a Slytherin? How had that happened? He stared at the letter like it was diseased. How could Harry — sweet, trusting, innocent Harry — have been Sorted into Slytherin, of all the Houses? If not Gryffindor, he was smart enough to be a Ravenclaw, or loyal enough to be a Hufflepuff. He was tempted to throw the letter into the fireplace, storm Hogwarts, and demand that Harry be re-Sorted. Before he could do this, years of practised calm took over, and he continued the letter.

_I hope I'm wrong, and you didn't just rip apart this letter, or crumple it up and throw it in the fire. Please don't be mad, Uncle Remus — I know you never got along with any Slytherins, and you were expecting me to be a Gryffindor, like Mum and Dad were. I'm sorry I disappointed you._

_Harry_

Stunned, Remus didn't even hear the telephone ringing. He barely noticed in time to get take call before the answering machine did.

"Hello, this is Remus Lupin. How may I help you?" His voice was shaking.

"Remus, it's Petunia. I was wondering how you were feeling. Should I come by?"

Remus almost smiled. Petunia always called him on the days before and after the full moon, in case he needed something.

"I'm fine, Petunia. There's no need to come over."

"You always say that. I don't believe it any more. You push yourself too hard, Remus. Someday it's going to catch up to you. I'm coming over there to check up on you in person."

There was no point in trying to argue with her. Since the boys were gone, Petunia's motherly instincts had redirected themselves. She watched over Remus like a hawk — or maybe a mother hen.

Petunia was as good as her word. Within five minutes she was in Remus' house, taking his temperature, ordering him to lie down awhile, and making him breakfast despite the fact that he'd already eaten: 'You need your strength, Remus.'

"Heard from the boys yet?" Remus asked.

"Yes, Amber showed up this morning with a letter from Dudley. He's quite excited. I haven't heard from Harry yet, but they _have_ only been gone for 24 hours." Petunia offered him a very long sheet of parchment covered in Dudley's handwriting. "I hope that they're both okay with being in different Houses."

"Yeah…" said Remus slowly. He didn't trust himself to say anything more concrete.

* * *

The first week at Hogwarts went by to quickly for either Harry's or Dudley's liking. Between dodging Caretaker Filch, running from the poltergeist (Peeves), and trying to find their classrooms, it was amazing that they were able to learn anything. But learn they did.

By the end of their Transfiguration class, Harry was the only Slytherin who had succeeded in changing his match into a needle. He was still edgy about using his wand, but he was more nervous about doing wandless magic while under strict instructions not to. Dudley, meanwhile, was the only student immune to the sleep-inducing voice of Professor Binns, the History of Magic teacher. He copied down every word droned by the boring ghost, often having to explain it to the other Gryffindors after class.

Friday, the cousins each felt a small bubble of excitement as they checked their schedules – Gryffindor and Slytherin had Double Potions together that morning. The class was in one of the dungeons, freezing cold and made even more intimidating by the pickled animals floating in jars that lined the walls.

Professor Snape began the class by taking the register. His voice never raised above a cold whisper, but he had a gift of keeping the class silent without trying. His black eyes looked coldly at the class as he finished the register, and several people shivered – being under Snape's gaze tended to make the temperature drop by ten degrees.

"You are here to learn the subtle silence and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind ensnaring the senses … I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death…" The class leaned forward, almost enraptured by his words. Professor Snape harshly broke the spell. "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

His onyx eyes roamed swiftly around the class. "Longbottom!" he said suddenly, causing the round-faced Gryffindor boy to jump. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I- I don't know, sir," Neville squeaked fearfully.

Professor Snape sneered at him. "Weasley! Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

Ron shot a panicked look at the rest of the class. "Er – an apothecary?"

"Five point from Gryffindor for being cheeky, Weasley." Ron's face went as red as his hair. "Dursley! What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Dudley almost collapsed with relief. Uncle Remus had told him this. "There isn't one, sir. They are the same plant, which is also called aconite."

Snape's mouth set itself in a thin line. "At least _someone_ actually opened a book before coming. Quartz! After allowing the Draught of Peace to simmer for seven minutes, how much of which ingredient do you add?" Most of the class gasped. Few of them had even heard of the Draught of Peace, never mind knowing how to brew it!

"Three drops syrup of hellebore, sir," said Sandy politely, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Snape didn't get any better as the class went on. He put the students into pairs and had them start mixing a simple potion to cure boils. He swept about the class in his billowing cloak, an even darker black than his eyes, which were watching critically, waiting for someone to make a mistake.

Harry had been paired with Dudley, but neither one got much chance to talk, as they had to focus on the potion. Next to them, Drake was weighing dried nettles as Sandra carefully crushed a handful snake fangs. All of a sudden, Sandy had vaulted herself over the table and grabbed Neville, pulling him away from Seamus' cauldron.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" she hissed, sounding rather like a cross between the snakes whose fangs she had been crushing and Professor Snape, who was making his way over. "Take the cauldron off the fire _before_ you add the porcupine quills, or you'll blow up the whole thing!"

"What's going on?" said Snape dangerously. Dudley couldn't understand how Sandy seemed so calm — if Snape had been looking at _him_ like that …

"Longbottom was endangering the class, sir. He nearly turned to potion into a deadly acid." Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Keep to your own work, Quartz. If Longbottom wishes to fail this class he is free to do so on his own."

Sandy nodded, returned to her mortar and pestle, and continued to crush snake fangs as though nothing had happened.

"How do you know all that?" Harry demanded after class.

"All what, exactly?"

"All that Potions stuff! Who taught you that?"

Sandy tossed her long braid over her shoulder. "My parents run an apothecary."

Slytherin and Gryffindor were also paired together for flying lessons. Harry and Dudley were the only ones in their respective houses not upset by this. In the Slytherin Common Room, Sandra Quartz was heard to voice the belief that the Headmaster took sadistic pleasure in placing the most volatile Houses together in potentially dangerous classes. Most Slytherins fervently agreed.

"That or he's trying to keep Hufflepuffs from being traumatized," said Drake sarcastically to his dorm mates as the went to breakfast. Harry glared.

"Easily managed: pair Hufflepuff with Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw with us. Maybe he just hopes the Hufflepuffs will get Ravenclaw brains from getting stuck together," suggested Theo, ignoring Harry as always. Theo's father, Theodore Nott Senior, had been an accused Death Eater, and neither Theo nor Harry felt comfortable around each other.

Precisely three-thirty that afternoon, the Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years milled around the twenty or so broomsticks they would soon be riding. The arrival of Madam Hooch, the flying teacher, made everyone freeze and those who were talking amongst themselves fall silent.

"Everyone stand on the left side of a broom. Stick your right hand over the broom and say 'Up!'" she said briskly.

Harry, Dudley, and Ron were the only ones who actually had their brooms leap into their hands at once. Drake got his to jump up on the second try. Sandy, after four tries, gave her broom the same look Snape kept giving Neville, and said 'UP!' in a do-it-or-else tone: the broom shot into her hand as though someone underground had thrown it.

Once everyone's broomstick was in their hands, Madam Hooch taught them how to mount without sliding off the end, and began correcting their grips. "Now, she announced, "when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle: three … two…"

Before the whistle even touched Madam Hooch's lips, Neville kicked off. _Very_ hard.

Dudley didn't even think. As Neville rose like a cork shot out of a bottle, Dudley kicked off after him. Crouched low on his broom, his expression looked like nothing more that a bird of prey to those on the ground. Harry hesitated a moment longer before he also shot after the terrified Gryffindor. If Neville fell — which he looked about to — there was no way that Dudley could hold the other boy's full weight.

"LONGBOTTOM! DURSLEY! POTTER! COME BACK DOWN THIS INSTANT!" shrieked Madam Hooch. Harry's broom wavered as though he was about to obey, but he shook his head fractionally and urged the broom so that he was hovering below Neville.

Dudley, now at Neville's side, grabbed the other boy's broomstick. Neville slipped, but Dudley made a wild snatch that caught Neville's sleeve. Harry rose in the air and took hold of Neville's other arm. Sandwiching Neville between them, Dudley and Harry managed to ease the three brooms back to the ground.

Madam Hooch was still yelling, but was by now getting hard to understand. "HOW DARE – MIGHT HAVE BROKEN YOUR NECKS – I SPECIFICALLY SAID – MIRACLE NONE OF YOU _DIED_!"

Harry had the sense to bow his head and look ashamed. His Gryffindor 'partners-in-crime' didn't. Neville was staring up at the sky in horror. Dudley was trying to argue with Madam Hooch.

"But – couldn't let him fall – it wasn't – we just –"

"QUIET! I don't want your excuses, Mr Dursley. Detention, all three of you, seven thirty tonight with Filch!" Harry winced at the punishment, but kept his mouth shut. Arguing with teachers would just make the punishment worse.

Apparently Dudley disagreed. "You can't blame Neville, he just lost control of –"

"I told you that I didn't want to hear your excuses, Dursley! Five points from Gryffindor!"

Dudley looked about to continue protesting, but Madam Hooch's glare made him shut his mouth at last.

Argus Filch, the caretaker, was a sadistic man who kept them up past midnight, polishing in the trophy room. All three of them were in agony as they tried to unbend their arms.

"Urgh," Dudley moaned. "I hope I never win any trophies. That polishing is dangerous – I think my arms are going to fall off."

Neville muttered in agreement. Harry was mentally filing everything he'd picked up from the trophies. You never knew when random information could come in handy.

_Tom Riddle won a 'Special Award for Services to the School' in 1942. Slytherin has won the House Cup every year since 1985. Frank Longbottom won –_ "Hey, Neville, is Frank Longbottom a relative of yours?"

Neville jumped. He was quite twitchy – almost _suspiciously_ so. "He's my dad, why?"

"He got a medal for 'Magical Merit' in 1978."

Neville looked mildly shocked as they reached a staircase. Harry turned to go down it, and went back to his mental filing.

"Don't mind Harry," Dudley advised Neville. "He sounds random sometimes, but that's 'cause he thinks the rest of his idea rather than saying it. He's quirky that way."

* * *

Hogwarts food had surpassed itself on the night of the Hallowe'en Feast. Every student was stuffing him- or herself like a ravenous wolf – well, almost every student.

"Where's Sandy?" Harry asked Drake.

"Visiting with Moaning Myrtle, one of the ghosts. Myrtle haunts a toilet on the first floor."

Harry blinked. "A toilet? _Why_?"

"No idea."

Neither boy had thought up any reason why a ghost would want to haunt a _bathroom_, of all places, when the doors were thrown open, Professor Quirrell ran up to the Headmaster and stammered: "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know," before fainting.

There was instant mayhem. Everyone was screaming and running for the doors. Professor Dumbledore had to set off three purple fireworks to make himself heard.

"Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

"Well, that's dumb," Harry heard Blaise grumbling to Theodore. "Our dorms are in the dungeons, is he trying to put us in danger?"

Harry grabbed Drake's arm. "Sandy doesn't know," he hissed.

Drake pulled his arm away. "She'll be fine."

"But what if she's trying to get back to the dorms later and the troll finds her?"

"If you want to go on a rescue mission, feel free. I'm not stopping you."

Harry sighed. Ducking behind a statue, he joined a group of Ravenclaws heading the other way. He gave them the slip a few minutes later, heading down a small, deserted staircase. When he reached the landing, a foul smell hit him in the face. A low grunting sound and the shuffle of giant footfalls was moving towards him.

A huge grey beast emerged into a patch of moonlight. Its bald head looked like a coconut, balanced precariously on top of a boulder. Dragging from its long arms was a giant wooden club. It turned to an open doorway and slouched slowly into the room. There was a scream.

"Sandy!" Harry shouted. The ghost of a young girl whizzed past him, screeching at the top of her lungs. From the room the troll had entered, another girl's voice was shouting incantations.

"_Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus! Locomotor Mortis! Expelliarmus! Wingardium Leviosa!"_

Harry ran inside to find Sandra trapped in a corner, pointing her wand at the troll. None of her spells seemed to be having any effect.

He didn't even realize that he had drawn his wand, he only knew that he wanted the troll gone._ Knock it out, Vanish it, I don't care, just get it out of here. _A beam of red light shot out of his wand and hit the troll right in the small of the back. The force of the blast lifted the troll off the floor and sent it into the wall.

The two Slytherins just stood there, shocked. Harry stared at his wand. Sandra stared at Harry. Both turned to stare at the unconscious troll on the floor.

"I suppose I should thank you for that," said Sandy finally. "Being clubbed to death by a troll has never been high on my priority list."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You're really good at the 'calm under fire' thing, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Yes."

Before the conversation could really take off, a ghost Harry assumed was Moaning Myrtle returned through the wall. Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell came in at a run. Quirrell took one look at the troll and sank to the floor, clutching his heart. Professor Snape bent over the unconscious beast, and McGonagall glared at the two students. "What happened?"

Snape turned to Sandy before either she or Harry could answer. "Miss Quartz. You weren't at the feast."

"I was visiting Myrtle when the troll showed up. She went for help, but since I couldn't get out, I tried to fight it. It was about to finish me off when Harry showed up and blasted it into the wall."

Harry tried not to look too shocked when Snape turned to him. "Is this true, Mr Potter?" Harry nodded, flushing horribly. "Miss Quartz was not in the Great Hall, and didn't hear the announcement. However, why didn't _you_ go to your Common Room, as the Headmaster instructed?"

"I went looking for Sandy." Harry didn't like being on the defensive.

"Do not take that tone with me, Mr Potter." Snape closed his eyes a moment. "I say you were lucky. Nevertheless, not many first years could have survived an encounter with an adult mountain troll. Five points to Slytherin. If neither of you are hurt, you'd best go back to the Slytherin Common room. Students are finishing the feast in their Houses. I will inform the Headmaster of what's happened. You may go."

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, I can't think up a better ending, so I'm ending it here.


	5. The Junior Marauders

**A/N:** No, the story is not over, I meant the chapter.

* * *

**The Junior Marauders**

"Oh come all ye faithful, er..."

"Joyful and triumphant," Sandy told the suit of armour they were passing.

"Why does the staff even bother with that charm?" Drake wondered. "I mean, the armour only ever knows half the words, and it's distracting."

"Harry! Wait up!" The three Slytherins turned to see a blonde Gryffindor chasing them.

"You two go ahead, I'll catch up," Harry muttered. Doubling back to his cousin, he asked quietly, "What's on your mind, Dud?"

Dudley lowered his voice dramatically. "It's time for Hogwarts to meet the Junior Marauders."

Harry nodded. "Shocking as this may be to you, I've been thinking…" Here he paused for the reaction he knew was coming.

Not one to disappoint, Dudley gasped theatrically. "Was it painful?"

"Torturous. But, before I passed out from the agony, I decided that if we're going to call ourselves Junior Marauders, we ought to become Animagi."

"True. But until then, let's focus on the pranking aspect. I've got a plan…"

Harry didn't see much of his friends for the next two days. Every spare moment was spent in the library with Dudley, trying find the right spells to make their first Hogwarts prank as memorable as possible. They decided to do it at dinner, the day before the Christmas holidays.

"People will be discussing it in the Common Rooms for the first part of break that way," said Dudley. "And whoever goes home will probably tell their parents or siblings."

"We should probably prank ourselves, too, to throw off suspicion."

"Are you mad? What's the point of a prank if you can't take credit for it?"

"The point is not making Snape hate me. He ignores me in class, but I can tell he doesn't like me. He was the first Marauders' favourite target, remember? I'd prefer not to get on his bad side, if I can help it."

"Fair enough, I guess. So what colour should we use? Something vivid…"

"Not a house colour."

"That limits it to orange, brown, pink, purple. "

"Not pink. Not brown, either, it isn't bright enough. I say we go with neon purple."

Harry and Dudley went down to the Great Hall together on the night of The Prank. They had managed to plant inconspicuous spell-holders, disguised as ornaments, on each of the twelve Christmas trees that decorated Hall. At exactly six-thirty, the time-delayed spells erupted in a shower of purple sparks. The students took cover under the House tables, but most had already been hit. Whenever a spark touched a human, that person's hair was Transfigured into bright purple feathers.

The shower of sparks only lasted a few seconds – Dudley and Harry knew that everyone would hide as soon as it started – but very few people dared leave the shelter they'd found under the tables. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had taken the most hits, being on the edges of the Great Hall, but Ravenclaw and Slytherin had also gotten their fair share of sparks.

"Fred and George Weasley!" roared Professor McGonagall, somehow intimidating even with purple feathers spilling out from under her hat.

"We'd be proud to take credit for this—"

"But for once—"

"We didn't do it!" protested the twins.

"Nice job by whoever did, though."

"Calm down, Minerva," said Headmaster Dumbledore. "Innocent until proven guilty. This was not done with ill intent, and I very much doubt that there has been lasting damage to anyone. No doubt this charm," gesturing towards his own purple-feathered chin, "will wear off soon enough."

He was right, of course. The charm would only last until the students got into bed. Harry and Dudley had agreed that, while feather pillows were comfortable, feather hair might be a bit too awkward.

Harry suddenly had a disturbing thought. According to Uncle Remus, the Marauders had gotten away with just about everything, but they were all Gryffindors. Remembering the Prefect's words on his first night, Harry wondered whether Dumbledore would be nearly so forgiving if he knew that one of the pranksters was a Slytherin.

What did it matter, he asked himself, it wasn't as if he was going to confess – Snape, who had somehow avoided the sparks, was looking like he might attack whoever took credit for what had happened.

Sandra took hold of her long feather braid and pulled it around to get a better look. "This isn't too bad. It might be a bit hard to sleep with, but at least it looks okay. Of course, hair is one of the easiest things to mess with, and there are already so many potions and spells on how to do it. It was clever to hide the spell inside Christmas ornaments, no one looks twice at those…" She kept up a steady flow of compliments on the prank, including the effort involved in time-delayed spells and a few suggestions on how to improve it. Harry tried not to blush.

* * *

**A/N: **Like in my Animorphs story, this was supposed to be longer, but I wanted to post something to prove that the story hadn't been abandoned. I haven't had access to a computer all summer until the past week. Next chapter involves the Philosopher's Stone plot.

**Regarding the most recent book:** I've had to change my plotline, but I think my story works out better this way. I was, of course, surprised. I _expected _Dumbledore to die, but I'd thought it would be of a heart attack or something else non-magical – I mean, he's ancient. He's got to have some age-related problems. I'd also thought, like many other people, that Harry would be feeling rather anti-Dumbledore, at least for a while. Still, the Snape-didn't-_really_-spy-for-Dumbledore-but-in-fact-still-serves-Voldemort works better for the story I'm doing, I need to make him rather dark.

**Regarding Hermione:** No offence to her fans, but I'm not overly fond of Hermione. I put her in Ravenclaw to get rid of her without killing her, although she might show up in a minor role later. I can't write her very well (I tried, but it sucked, so I deleted it), and I think she'll be happier in Ravenclaw, with people who share her bookishness.

**Regarding Harry's wand:** Sorry if that makes anyone uneasy. I didn't know that the wood was symbolic, I just figured that the Druids used yew trees to make their magic wand, so it's probably really powerful. My computer won't let me onto JKR's web site for some reason, I think our connection to the Internet has a few glitches. In my story, the wand is symbolic to the Harry-Voldemort connection going a bit deeper than in the books. See the next chapter for details (well, vague explanations and Harry's means of finding out about the Stone, anyway.)


	6. Nightmare

Harry shifted uneasily in his sleep. He was having one of those weird dreams he got every few weeks – the dreams that made his scar ache.

_Darkness. Warmth. A heavy stench, like garlic. A frightened voice._

"_Master, I can't find anything. Not even the Restricted Section. There's no way past the beast."_

_Another voice, colder, which seemed to come from his own mouth._

"_You fool! There is a way, you just aren't looking hard enough. The troll ought to have given you plenty of time to deal with the creature."_

"_I was with the other teachers, Master. I tried to slip away, but Snape followed me. Master, please do not be angry…"_

"_Silence! You _will_ find a way past the beast. I must have the Stone it guards!"_

"_You will, Master. I swear I will get it for you. But–"_

"_What is it, you incompetent buffoon?"_

"_Snape. He suspects me. He's been asking awkward questions, following me around."_

"_Does he know anything for certain?"_

"_He doesn't seem to…"_

"_Then it does not matter what he suspects. See that you do not fail me, Quirrell. The Philosopher's Stone will be mine."_

"_Yes, Master."_

Harry's eyes shot open. True to form, his scar was burning. It felt like a white-hot wire was being pressed against his forehead. To anyone listening, he seemed to hiss in pain, but he was actually cursing in Parseltongue. These dreams were so bloody painful!

As far as he knew, he'd been having them ever since he was a baby. He'd never talked about them, except to tell his aunt he'd had a nightmare if he woke up screaming. For years it was just intense pain, somewhere in a jungle. A few times he seemed to be some kind of animal, usually a snake, but other times he couldn't sense any sort of body. Sometime this year, the dreams had changed. Now he was in a dark place that reeked of garlic.

He _hated_ garlic.

And now there were people talking, one of whom seemed to be him.

Why had Quirrell of all people been in his dream? Who was the Philosopher, and why was his or her Stone of any importance? Why would Snape be suspicious of Quirrell?

"It's just a dream," he muttered aloud. "It's not real." The words _Philosopher's Stone_ echoed relentlessly within his skull as he fumbled with his glasses. "No harm finding out what that is, though, I guess." He slipped out of bed and started digging around in his trunk, carefully neutralizing the defensive spells he'd put on it first. He wasn't sure how much he still _believed_ of Slytherin's reputation as the darkest house, but as a prankster he'd always been careful to ensure his own things couldn't be tampered with. He seized a pen and his notebook at last, and carefully removed the spells he'd encrypted the book with, (because who could resist a peek into the mind of the Boy-Who-Didn't-Snuff-It?), before finding a blank page and scribbling away.

Every time he had a 'scar-dream', as he called them, he wrote it down as soon as he could find a pen. He'd begun to do this when he was about eight. There wasn't any particular reason for writing them down – certainly it didn't ease the burning pain in his scar – but recording the dreams gave him an illusion of control. His notebook was full of hastily scrawled memories and sketchy pictures, drawn in half-lit rooms before the images faded away completely. Harry didn't bother sketching this one, since he hadn't been able to see anything, but he did make a note about the garlic – he'd never been able to smell anything in the dreams before.

Author's Note: Yes, I know, it's too short. I just felt guilty about taking so long to update. Please don't pressure me, stress gives me writer's block.

Anicrazy: If you'd read chapter three, you would know that _yes_, Drake is Draco Malfoy. I know what you mean, things just won't be the same without Wraithlord.


	7. Albus Dumbledore

**WARNING:** arrogant, manipulative, self-righteous, somewhat-evil-but-not-dark Albus Dumbledore. Fawkes, too, is more than he appears. 

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, never has been, never will be.

* * *

**A Peek Into the Mind (and Office) of Albus Dumbledore **

Albus paced his office, waiting for Harry to arrive. He had to ensure that the Boy-Who-Lived would become his ally. There was a soft knock.

"Come in," he called, practically diving into his chair. The door opened.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

"Ah, Harry." The headmaster's eyes twinkled away. "Yes, I was hoping for a quick word. Sit."

Harry sat in the chair closest to Albus' desk and stared at the old man with calm, curious eyes.

_So,_ Albus mused, _he knows better than to try the wide-eyed, innocent look, at least until he knows why he's here._

"Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"No, thank you, sir."

"Did Severus tell you why I asked you to come?"

"No, sir." Nonchalant, polite, slightly questioning.

"I've been meaning to have a talk with you for a while." Albus watched closely, but the boy's face was not particularly open. His eyes did most of the talking, and even they didn't say much. They simply shone that strange, disconcerting green. Rather desperately, the old man groped around for what to say and blurted out the first words that came to mind. "I was wondering if you had any questions for me."

Harry seemed to mull this over for a moment. "About what, sir?"

"Well … anything. Ask away."

Harry thought for a few more minutes. "Why didn't you expel Sirius Black in his sixth year, after he tried to kill Professor Snape?"

Albus choked. From his perch, Fawkes trilled in agreement. Harry's eyes flicked to the phoenix and sparked for a second, then blanked again.

"I – er – how did you find out about that?"

"Uncle Remus told me."

Dumbledore hesitated. This was unexpected. "Sadly, I am unable to offer you my reasons for that. Do you have … any other questions?" He tried not to cringe as he asked.

"I suppose not, sir." Harry had a calculating glint in his eyes and a tiny frown playing around his mouth, neither of which the Headmaster liked.

"Well, then, I suppose you'd … you'd better return to your dormitory."

Harry's eyes sparked again. He nodded sharply and exited, leaving Albus to berate himself for not planning the encounter properly.

How was he supposed to deal with this? He had been expecting – no, _planning_ on – a little clone of James. Harry was supposed to be a perfect Gryffindor, a hero-in-waiting. Not this … _enigma_. Admittedly, the boy had some potential; the Headmaster's eyes had been twinkling like mad when he heard about Harry's rescue of Sandra Quartz on Hallowe'en. But the wand, which both Lupin and Ollivander had written to him about, was worrisome. And being placed in _Slytherin_? How had that happened?

Albus had been careful. The Ministry refused to allow any child, much less the Boy-Who-Lived, to be placed in the custody of a werewolf. So Albus had placed Harry with his maternal aunt, a woman he knew to despise all things magical including her own sister, and arranged for Remus to be close enough to baby-sit. Petunia, Albus reasoned, would be so relieved to have a magical person to hand her nephew over to that she wouldn't care about that person being a werewolf.

Harry was to be raised mostly by Remus, taught to love and cherish the magical world and see it as refuge, a sanctuary from all the hurt of the Muggle world. He would do anything to save the magical world, and if Voldemort ever did come back, Harry would be willing and able to fulfill the prophecy. Albus would be his role model, the pinnacle of light. Thanks to the influence of the last Marauder, Harry would hero-worship his father's memory, and be willing to do anything to hear that he would've made his father proud. But something had gone wrong.

Dudley Dursley was a wizard. Harry's relatives had not rejected him, throwing him into Remus' care without a second thought. The Dursleys embraced magic, and by extension, their nephew. Harry had been loved, cherished, raised to have his own mind, and seemed to be taking after his mother. Slughorn _had_ often said that Lily would've been better suited to Slytherin.

Now there had been this prank. Purple feathers replacing hair, how amateur. But targeting the Great Hall meant that the culprits would not be easily caught, unless they confessed. Since all the Christmas decorations had been conjured up by magic anyway, the enchanted ornaments were relatively untraceable, but Dumbledore was very sure Harry was at least involved. Remus had told him about the 'Junior Marauders.' This was a cautious way of testing the waters, perhaps, to see how much they could get away with.

_Encourage that,_ Albus instructed himself. _Try and get him to act more like James. Push him closer to his cousin, perhaps – Dudley _is_ in Gryffindor, after all. Don't let him befriend to many Slytherins – that Quartz girl may need to be removed. Still, I can't risk estranging her family, her father and grandfather in particular. Damn it, Harry, why couldn't you have been a good boy and gotten Sorted into Gryffindor, like you were supposed to?_

A sharp trill was all the warning Albus got before Fawkes shifted to his proper form. "Come on, James Junior, be a good little chess piece and let me manipulate you," said the redheaded man sarcastically. "Is he supposed to be a pawn or a knight?"

With a deep sigh, Albus turned to face the Phoenix-Animagus. Why did he keep this man around again? Oh, right – to hide the fact that the _real_ Fawkes had vanished almost twelve ago, shortly after the prophecy was made. "I _wish_ you wouldn't blow things out of proportion like that. I only have– "

"Everyone's best interests at heart, you've told me. I, meanwhile, wish I didn't have to pretend I was your pet bird. This is bloody demeaning!"

"If you hadn't taken refuge in your Animagus form, Voldemort would have killed you."

"And if you hadn't let my psycho-idiotic-git of a brother run amok at Hogwarts and try to use his best friend to murder mine, Voldemort wouldn't have killed Lily."

Albus sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "Why do all our conversations end up being about your brother?"

"Maybe I just like reminding you of your mistake."

**

* * *

**

**A/N**: Celebration-cookies for anyone who can correctly guess who Fawkes is! Sympathy-cookies to anyone who takes a guess but doesn't get it! It's very simple: just grab your favourite type of cookie and tell yourself it's from me! **SUGAR RUSH!**


	8. Pheonix's Choice

Author's Note: Fawkes is Regulus, or rather, Regulus is pretending to be Fawkes. And he's decided to spice things up a little, because apparently he doesn't like my plotline (or lack thereof) for Harry's first year. I wasn't planning this, but Regulus seems to be taking over my work.

HELP! REGULUS BLACK IS TAKING OVER MY MIND! SOMEBODY TEACH MY OCCLUMENCY, QUICK!

_Thought_

"English"

"Gobbledegook"

* * *

**The Phoenix's Choice**

On Christmas morning, (goblins didn't celebrate human holidays,) an aristocratic man strolled casually into Gringotts, looking around for a free goblin. Spotting one who did not seem too busy, he positioned himself in front of the goblin's desk and waited until the goblin looked up.

"I wish to speak to Manager Savio, please," he said, in fluent Gobbledegook. The goblin left quickly. The man allowed himself a tiny smile – most beings treated you better when you spoke their language. It got him quick service at the bank, if nothing else.

Another goblin arrived. This one was older than the one who had been at the desk. "Can I help you?" he asked, also in Gobbledegook.

_He's testing to see if I'm fluent,_ the man knew. He proffered his key for inspection. "Good day, Manager Savio. Let us talk business."

The goblin smirked, sparing no more than a quick glance for the key. "Your glamour charms are impressive, Mr Black."

"Of course. Dead men do not meet with Gringotts managers." He clasped his hand over his heart in a shrill imitation of a Victorian lady: "It is simply not done!"

Savio chuckled ruefully. "Let us adjourn to my office."

Once they were in the rather heavily warded stone office, the man dropped his glamour. In the place of a brunet aristocrat was a redheaded man, still handsome, but less formal. "It has been too long, Savio." The goblin raised an eyebrow. "Since I have had a conversation with anyone but the headmaster, and since I have seen you," he elaborated.

"What business did you wish to discuss that was important enough that you would come out of hiding, Regulus?"

_Ah, goblins. Always thinking about business._ "The Life-Stone is not safe in the school. The self-proclaimed _Dark Lord_," (he couldn't keep the derision out of his voice,) "is determined to seize it. The headmaster does nothing – I believe he plans to test his secret weapon by tricking him into doing the old man's job. The weapon does not seem to be very enthusiastic about this."

"Well, that counts in his favour, at least."

"Indeed. I understand the Stone to be concealed in the Mirror of Desire. Rather clever, really: if someone wants to find it, but does not want to use it, they can get the Stone. Since I do not want anyone, including myself, to find it, I cannot get it out to hide it somewhere safer. But I can sense it's magic, so I know it is a fake and it's maker has the real one – brilliant deception, really – and now I do not know what should be done. I came here hoping for some advice."

Savio chuckled again. "Honestly, the things you get involved in … first the Death Eaters, then the Horcrux hunt, and now this. I believe I warned you not to turn to headmaster for help?"

"Yes, and I was an idiot, and I heard quite enough of that from my family when I was younger, thank you. But I know better now."

"I hope so, Regulus." Savio folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "My advice is to transport the Mirror somewhere safe. Perhaps shrink it, hide it in your pocket, and change to your Animagus form. Unless you desire immortality, you will not be tempted."

Regulus snorted harshly, and tugged at the neckline of his robes, showing Savio a lightning-bolt shaped scar just above his right shoulder. "Why would I want immortality? I cannot die, do you remember? The phoenix's curse." He and Savio both knew that 'phoenix' simply referred to a Light being that could not die, whatever the species. It just happed that all human phoenixes had a firebird as their Animagus form.

Savio gasped at the sight of the scar. "So … this means …"

"Harry Potter is a phoenix, yes. A portrait reported to the headmaster that he and his cousin are already planning to become Animagi, so he will discover it soon enough."

"I was _going_ to say, this means that someone actually has tried to kill you. You have confirmed you are immortal."

"Yes, that too. My cousin, Bellatrix, hit me in the shoulder with a Killing Curse. I was knocked unconscious, and she Disapparated away. I understand that if someone tries to kill me, I will simply survive and remain as I was before, except perhaps with a new scar. If I die of illness or old age, though, I will revert back to infancy." He stood. "I should go. The old man will be wonder where I am. It was nice to see again, Savio, I will be sure to pop in for a visit more often."

"Tread carefully around the old man, Regulus," the goblin cautioned him. Regulus nodded, carefully replacing his glamour before leaving the office. He left the bank and slipped into a small, dark doorway, the sign over which was simply a tiny stylised 'Q', cut from a glittering stone.

The doorway was the back entrance of Quartz Apothecary; a slightly disreputable shop, since it's main entrance was on Knockturn Alley. It was the oldest apothecary still in existence, pre-dating Hogwarts itself by about fourteen years, according to the owner.

Despite its questionable location, or perhaps because of it, the shop did a roaring trade of both ingredients and ready-made potions. If you knew how to ask, you could also buy obscure potions books. The shop didn't specialize in Dark Potions, as some did, or restrict itself to ingredients. In short, it was a place you could get high quality potions of almost any sort, without many questions asked.

Behind the counter of the dark shop was a cloaked figure. The shopkeeper – or was it shopkeepers? – always wore a dark cloak with a hood covering his (her?) face, and kept his (her?) voice at whisper level.

It was a subject of much debate in the Knockturn Alley pubs whether the shopkeeper, known only as 'Quartz,' was a man, a woman, several people on rotating shifts, or even human at all. Quartz always seemed to be there, behind the counter, no matter how many customers where being served in the back rooms, where the actual transactions took place.

Quartz nodded to Regulus, knowing his business, and wordlessly opened the door beside the counter. Regulus entered the huge room. Shelves upon shelves of jars, carefully labelled in tiny script, filled the space.

He didn't even consider stealing anything – only Quartz could remove the jars from their place on the shelves. Several would-be thieves had ended up in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Spell Damage ward, with boils and hives covering their bodies, teeth and nails growing a foot a minute, liver removed from it's rightful place and plastered instead against their necks, and their eyeballs on fire.

Shaking this image from his mind, Regulus found an empty corner, shifted to his Animagus form, and fire-flashed not to Dumbledore's office, but to the bowels of Azkaban prison.

"Hey, big brother," he said to the unconscious Grim, whose cell he had just appeared in. He completely ignored the Dementors outside, focusing only on his brother. "It's been ten years. The standard sentence for attempted murder is five years, right? Then there's a maximum of two months for being an illegal Animagus. So, since you didn't manage to kill anyone, you're free to go. Come on."

He turned into a bird again, grabbed the dog off the floor, and fire-flashed out.

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, the Christmas feast was coming to a close. People were yawning, and beginning to head back to their dorms. Harry, Draco, Dudley (who had joined them at the Slytherin table), Neville (who had come with Dudley), and Sandra were among the few students who hadn't gone to bed yet.

Several owls winged their way into the Great Hall, each bearing a copy _The Evening Prophet_. Most went to the Head Table, landing in front of various teachers, but a screech owl made a beeline for the Slytherin table. Sandra, the only one in the group who took the paper every day, accepted her copy and gave the owl a Knut and a sausage. Unrolling her paper, she gasped loudly and laid it flat cross the table, so the four boys could see the headline as well.

_SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN!_

Most of the page below this headline was taken by a photo of a gaunt, pale man with massive quantities of filthy black hair. His waxy skin was stretched like parchment over his bones, giving him the appearance of a living skeleton. He stared with haunted eyes at the five students as they hurriedly read the article about him.

_At an undisclosed time today, presumed to be in the morning, mass-murderer Sirius Black disappeared from his top-security cell in Azkaban prison._

_"We're completely flummoxed as to how he did it," admitted a Ministry spokeswizard. "The locks on his cell weren't damaged, there's no way he could've Disapparated, and he can't have had outside help, since no one is allowed to visit the top-security prisoners._

_"We are doing all we can to recapture Black, and beg the magical community to not panic. Any sighting of Sirius Black should be reported to the Auror Office immediately."_

_The public is reminded that Black, who was sentenced to life in Azkaban after he murdered thirteen people with a single curse, is extremely dangerous, and should not be approached under any circumstance._

"There'll probably be a longer article tomorrow," said Sandy quietly. "This was a last minute addition – they'll add more when they know more. Are you okay, Harry?"

"Why wouldn't he be?" asked Neville, clueless. Harry's response was forced out through tightly gritted teeth.

"Sirius Black is the reason my parents are dead." He turned away and swept out of the Great Hall.

Harry's survival instincts were barking instructions: write to Uncle Remus to warn him before The Daily Prophet arrived tomorrow (Remus didn't get The Evening Prophet), write to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon so they would know what was happening, then barricade himself in his dorm, because Black might come after him and would probably expect him to be in Gryffindor like his parents. Tomorrow, he and Dudley would have to comb through the library and find warding and protective spells to use for times outside Hogwarts. In his hurry to get away, Harry missed Neville's apologetic whimper, Dudley's scathing glare at the paper, Snape's expression of mingled disgust and fear, and Dumbledore's quick but subtle exit.

* * *

_Dear Uncle Remus,_

_I found out something rather disturbing a few minutes ago. A friend of mine, Sandra Quartz, received a copy of The Evening Prophet with a front-page article about Sirius Black escaping Azkaban. I plan to spend tomorrow searching the library for protective spells to keep him from finding me. Do you know any I can use?_

_Don't worry, I won't do anything rash like try to track him down myself – I'm only eleven, there's no way I could take Black on even if I did corner him. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you might like some warning before The Daily Prophet arrives tomorrow. Please be careful._

_Harry_

* * *

_Dear Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon,_

_I just found out that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban prison. I've written to Uncle Remus for advice, and I'm planning to hide in my dorm as much as I can – even if Black does, heaven forbid, break into Hogwarts, he'd probably expect me to be in Gryffindor like my dad. Don't worry; Hogwarts is very well protected. Neither Dudley nor I should be in any danger._

_Uncle Remus will probably be able to tell you more. Please be careful._

_Harry_

* * *

The Headmaster got to his office as swiftly as possible without sacrificing his dignity. His fears were confirmed when several portraits and an otherwise empty office greeted his arrival. Regulus Black, a.k.a. Fawkes, was gone.

Dumbledore sank into his chair. He had lost the illusion Regulus had helped him maintain – that the Headmaster of Hogwarts had a phoenix as his familiar. Either Regulus had decided to go back to serving Voldemort, with his first act of 'redemption' being to break his brother out of Azkaban, or else he had somehow found out that Sirius had escaped from Azkaban and gone after his brother himself.

Briefly, Dumbledore allowed himself to marvel at the difference between the Black brothers. Sirius had, in his school days, been an ideal pawn – a boy from a family of Slytherins, trying to survive as a Gryffindor. He'd latched on to James, and James had in turn latched on to Sirius. They had joined the Order of the Phoenix practically the day they graduated. Sirius had everything – why did he turn to Voldemort?

Regulus was practically the opposite of his older brother, the red hair being the most obvious difference. When Sirius was the centre of attention, Regulus would slink about the background. Sirius craved the spotlight, while Regulus was content in the shadows. Sirius had an explosive temper; Regulus, when angered, became cold and aloof, or bitingly sarcastic. Sirius had betrayed the Order to join Voldemort, while Regulus had stopped serving Voldemort to … well, he hadn't joined the Order, but he wasn't a Death Eater anymore.

Another possibility that occurred to Dumbledore as he prepared for bed was that Regulus had finally decided to remove his brother from Azkaban and kill him. There was certainly enough hatred between them. Aurors would find Sirius' body in a ditch somewhere, and Regulus would come back, calm and smug, to maintain the charade.

Yes, that's probably it, he told himself, sticking his head back into his office to wish the portraits goodnight.

* * *

Harry was extremely twitchy at breakfast the next day. His nerves weren't helped by the sound of a woman shouting from the Head Table. The Headmaster had a Howler.

"ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN **DUMBLEDORE**! I WARNED YOU THAT SIRIUS BLACK WAS DANGEROUS, BUT DID YOU LISTEN TO ME? **NO**! YOU SHOULD HAVE EXPELLED THE MURDEROUS CRETIN IN HIS SIXTH YEAR, AFTER THE **FIRST** TIME HE TRIED TO KILL SOMEONE! BUT **NO**! BLACK WAS THE PRECIOUS GRYFFINDOR, WASN'T HE, THE GOLDEN BOY WHO COULD DO NO WRONG!

"WHO **CARES** IF HE TERROIZES EVERY STUDENT IN HOGWARTS WHO ISN'T IN GRYFFINDOR? WHO CARES IF HE TRIED TO **KILL A FELLOW STUDENT**? NOT THE HEADMASTER! NOT THE MAN CHARGED WITH ASSURING THE SAFETY OF **ALL** HOGWARTS' STUDENTS! CERTAINLY NOT THE FOOL SO BUSY **PLAYING** **GOD** THAT HE NEGLECTED HIS SCHOOL! THAT'S WHAT HOGWARTS IS SUPPOSED TO BE, ALBUS, A **SCHOOL**! NOT A RECRUITING GROUND OR A TRAINING FIELD!

"BUT **THEN**! **THEN** BLACK ATTACKED SOME OF THE **PRECIOUS GRYFFINDORS**! **THEN** YOU SAW FIT TO LOCK HIM UP! BECAUSE THE GRYFFINDORS ARE **SO** SPECIAL AND **SO** IMPORTANT, AREN'T THEY, HEADMASTER? I SWEAR TO YOU, ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, IF BLACK MANAGES TO HURT ANYONE ELSE, I WILL HOLD YOU **PERSONALLY** **RESPONSIBLE** AND I **WILL** ENSURE THAT YOU ARE **REMOVED** FROM **HOGWARTS**! **PERMANENTLY**!"

There was a ringing silence for a few minutes, as everyone tried to move past the shock of some random woman sending a Howler to _the_ Albus Dumbledore. Harry felt a weak impulse to applaud the letter's unknown sender, but his survival instincts wouldn't let him dare. Finally, chatter broke out again.

"Lovely woman, my mother," Sandra mumbled under the cover of babble. She was across the table from Harry, looking resolutely down at her plate as she cut up her scrambled eggs. "So level-headed and sweet-tempered…"

"That was your mother?" Harry demanded, as loudly as he dared.

"She and the Headmaster don't see eye to eye on certain issues." Sandy stabbed her fork into a piece of egg with rather unnecessary vigour. Harry glanced at the sharp utensil clenched in his friend's hand, and decided it would be best for his health not to question her just then.

Draco leaned over and explained quietly into Harry's left ear. "Mrs Quartz is Professor Snape's twin sister. She hates Black with a fiery passion, and she's not to fond of Dumbledore either." Yet another glance at the Head Table revealed a quietly triumphant smirk flickering around Professor Snape's mouth.

Severus was, in fact, giggling inside his head at his sister's rant. He'd known what was coming as soon as he'd recognized the screech owl; he'd given that bird to his sister for her eighteenth birthday, so she would stop asking to borrow his own barred owl. His sister had no reason to send him anything – she'd Flooed over yesterday to wish him a happy Christmas, and they had exchanged gifts then. If the message had been for Sandra, they would have used Gloria, a scopes owl the girl had a strong bond with.

_Only Salazora,_ Severus thought fondly, _would have the humour to send a Howler via screech owl. _His twin always did have an odd sense of humour. She had seemed wholly convinced, for example, that the reason James Potter had taken so much pleasure in dangling Severus upside down was because he was gay and wanted to see Severus naked. Whether she actually believed it, or was simply trying to embarrass Potter, Severus had never known, but it certainly did keep Lily Evans, Salazora's best friend, away from Potter up until seventh year.

And, as was her way, Sally didn't use any names in mentioning Black's attempt at killing Severus. She never _tried_ to humiliate her brother, though the rumours she'd spread about Potter being in love with him had certainly given him mental trauma. She hadn't mentioned Remus Lupin either, Severus noted with a tiny smirk; Sally and Lupin had dated from their third year right up until what Salazora usually called 'the full moon incident.' Severus had told her everything, before Dumbledore swore him to secrecy, and been shocked to learn that his Ravenclaw sister had known Lupin was a werewolf ever since their first year!

They had broken up after Black had tried to use Lupin to murder Severus. Sally was very firm in telling both Lupin and Severus that she was only dumping her boyfriend for her brother's peace of mind, and that if Lupin would allow her, she'd like to remain friends with him. She'd actually tried to set Lupin up with Lily Evans, but that hadn't worked out. She'd always been playing matchmaker for her best friend, trying to set Lily up first with Severus (which had been a disaster,) then Lupin (a friendship, but nothing more,) and finally Regulus Black.

Severus had no idea how his sister had gotten it into her head that Regulus and Evans would be a good match – maybe she'd just wanted to see how Evans dealt with a fellow redhead. The problem with Regulus was that he was … well, a bit of a coward. He'd been terrified of doing anything that might get him disowned, and dating Lily would certainly have been that.

The Potions Master sighed; he missed his best friend. Regulus had been there for him through some really hard times. When Bellatrix Lestrange had shown up and announced that she had killed her 'treacherous cousin,' and convinced him that she wasn't referring to Sirius, it was all Severus could do not to attack the witch.

* * *

"Happy Christmas, Sirius," Regulus announced, trying to spoon hot cocoa into his half-conscious brother's mouth.

"Master Regulus should not have brought the blood traitor here," Kreacher muttered from the corner. "What Kreacher's mistress would say if she saw this, she swore he was no son of hers, no, no, no – "

"That's enough, Kreacher," said Regulus. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had been the only place he could think of to take Sirius until the older man had recovered from his time in Azkaban. "I don't want you and Sirius to fight with each other. So you are now under orders not to say anything while you are in the same room as Sirius. Is that understood?"

Kreacher scowled, but nodded his head. The elf promptly left the room, muttering very loudly once he had crossed the threshold. Regulus shook his head. He liked Kreacher, really, but he wouldn't let the elf insult his brother. Sirius was family, no matter what his mother or cousins – or Sirius himself – said otherwise.

"Come on, Sirius, just drink the cocoa," he said as soothingly as he could. He'd bought a dozen general nutrient potions at Quartz Apothecary before going to Gringotts, and had poured three of them into the cocoa. "It'll help. Chocolate helps with the after-effects of Dementors, remember? You'll feel better. Come on, Snuffles," he pleaded, using the stupid nickname he'd given his brother when he was five and Sirius was six. Sirius had been prone to colds as a child, and Regulus didn't even want to think about how badly Azkaban would have weakened his brother's constitution.

"Uh … Gully?" asked Sirius, opening his eyes. He'd been alert enough earlier to change back to human at the sound of footsteps, and was now convinced he was hallucinating. The Dementors had finally driven him mad. How else could Regulus be here? He was dead … wasn't he?

"Good, you're awake. Drink this."

No self-respecting Auror, or ex-Auror, would ever drink something offered by an unknown party. Fortunately for Regulus, ten years, one month, three weeks, four days, seven hours, thirty-two minutes and eighteen seconds in Azkaban prison had pretty much obliterated Sirius' self-respect. He opened his mouth and drank.

He instantly felt better than he had in a decade. Chocolate had innate happiness-inducing qualities, a fact well known by compulsive eaters, Dementor experts, and unhappy women. The nutrient potions, and that it was the first warmth he had experienced since being sentenced to life in prison, probably didn't hurt either.

"Where am I?" he asked, unwilling to move now that he'd noticed the warm, comfortable sheets wrapped around his body.

"Home," said Regulus simply. "Though I suppose you might argue that point, once you've got your strength back.

"Who are you?"

"Snuffles, I'm wounded. You don't recognize your baby brother?" Regulus gave Sirius a look of deepest hurt, then chuckled gently. "I s'pose I'll have to forgive you; it _has_ been over ten years."

"You're not." When the redhead didn't react, Sirius started to worry. "You're not Regulus. You _can't_ be. Regulus Black died years ago." Now he was on the verge of panic.

"I faked my death and I've been in hiding ever since. Cousin Trixie unwittingly helped with the first part."

No one but Regulus ever referred to Bellatrix as 'Trixie.' Reggie had nicknames for most of the family: 'Snuffles' for Sirius, 'Trixie' for Bellatrix, 'Drama' (pronounced _draw_-muh) for Andromeda, 'Dory' for Andromeda's daughter Nymphadora, 'Nari' for Narcissa, and 'Drake' for Narcissa's son Draco.

Had Sirius been prone to such things, he probably would have fainted.


	9. Guardians

Author's Note: Yes, I feel major guilt. But why does everyone keep thinking I've abandoned this? Sorry it took so long.

**

* * *

**

Guardians

Vernon Dursley was not in a good mood. A madman was after his nephew; his wife was on the edge of a panic attack; and, to add insult to injury, Remus had informed him that there was no way for Vernon or Petunia to protect their boys.

_"They're safest where they are. Hogwarts has all sorts of wards in place to protect the students."_

_"There has to be something we can do!" Petunia wrung her hands desperately._

_"I'm sorry, Petunia, but all we really can do is hope the Aurors catch Black quickly."_

Vernon scowled at the memory and hit the punching bag again. He'd made the basement into something of a gym eight years ago, after the family doctor informed him that he was 'a heart attack waiting to happen.' He wasn't exactly buff, but he wasn't overweight anymore either. Besides, regular workouts let his mind wander while his body was on autopilot.

He wasn't about to let either of his boys get hurt. There had to be a way to help.

* * *

Werewolf pack instincts are something to be marvelled at. _Protect the pack from any danger. Defend the pack at all costs._ Most importantly, _never allow harm to reach the cubs._

Remus' pack instincts were screaming at him to go to Hogwarts, just in case his cubs needed him. Harry had always been part of the pack, and although Remus couldn't quite pinpoint when, sometime over the past ten years he had adopted Dudley, Petunia and Vernon into his pack as well.

It was only logical that Sirius would be headed for Hogwarts. Even if Harry were safe in the dungeons, Dudley would still be in danger up in the Gryffindor Tower. How could he protect his cubs? What was he going to do?

Sirius had been a Marauder; he knew Hogwarts' secret passages like the back of his hand. Unless the boys discovered some place the Marauders hadn't – highly unlikely, given they'd only been there four months against the Marauders' seven years, though not actually impossible – they'd be sitting ducks.

Cherry nuzzled Remus' leg. He stroked the dog's head affectionately, feeling his resolve strengthen. He couldn't do this alone.

"C'mon, girl. Let's go talk to the Dursleys."

* * *

"You realize, of course, that the boys aren't going to take this lying down," said Vernon slowly. "I wouldn't put it past them to try sneaking away from us. No kid wants an adult following him around all the time, if it is for his own protection."

"You've known from the beginning that parenthood isn't a popularity contest," Petunia snapped. "It's for their own safety, and right now that takes precedence over their happiness or privacy or whatever else."

"You'll help, then?" asked Remus.

"You have to ask?"

* * *

"Ow." Dudley glared at the book he had just opened, for all the world as though it were the fault of _Amazing Achievements of Modern Magic_ that he now sported a deep paper cut. Tearing a corner from the roll of parchment he'd been taking notes on and wandlessly Transfiguring it into a band-aid, he scanned the index of the heavy tome. With a sigh, he added another title to his list of "Books That Do Not Mention The Philosopher's Stone."

"Are you sure this is even a real thing?" he asked Harry.

"Not for certain," his cousin admitted.

_Oh, just peachy._ "So then why am I giving up the rest of my holiday break to find a book about something you aren't even sure exists?"

"No idea."

"It might help if I knew why you wanted to know about this rock thing."

Harry allowed himself a half snigger. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Dudley."

"Try me."

Harry's bright eyes darkened. "Well … Ever since I can remember, I've had these dreams …"

Dudley stared at Harry incredulously. When his cousin finished, he had no response, except: "No wonder you never told anyone. That is one of the craziest things I've ever heard – including that time when you told Uncle Remus that the reason we had filled the chimney with peanut butter was because there was a Boggart hiding in it that had the hiccups."

Harry forced a smile. "He did look funny with peanut butter all over him, didn't he?"

* * *

Three tables away, next to the windows, Sandy petted Gloria with one hand and wrote with the other, as the owl dutifully awaited a reply to the message she'd just delivered.

_Dad,_

_Congratulate Mum on the Howler for me. It arrived in the middle of breakfast. Dumbledore's expression was priceless. Absolute and total shock. If the eggs hadn't already been fried, they probably could've been on his face. I wish I'd had a camera._

_Things are a little tense here, but not very. The teachers are brushing everyone's concerns away with the latest mantra: 'Hogwarts is the safest place in magical Britain'. Never mind that a troll's already gotten in this year … I told you about that in my last letter, remember? I owe Harry big time for showing up when de did. That troll was even scarier than Uncle Severus when his temper blows – which hasn't happened in class yet, thank Salazar._

_Of course I'll keep an eye out for Harry – right now I'm helping him research defensive wards. What are friends for?_

_I'd better wrap this up. I'm not sure how Madame Pince feels about owls in the library. Give my love to everyone._

_Sandra_

_PS: Good move. Knight to E7._

Draco glanced up as she folded the letter and sent the scopes owl on its way. "Any big news?"

"Not from home. Try the _Daily Prophet_."

Draco chuckled. Sandy was always closed-mouthed about her family. He'd met her parents a couple of times, and he knew that Professor Snape was her uncle on her mum's side, but on her dad's side he knew about as much as he did about ostrich farming.

In his own family it was the opposite. His father's lectures gave him a thorough, almost blow-by-blow understanding of Malfoy family history. His mother never said much about her family. He knew she had a sister and a cousin – or maybe there were more, but she always cut herself off when any other relative was mentioned in passing.

This was all irrelevant, Draco informed himself. Promptly dismissing all thought of family, be it what little he knew of Sandy's or what his own would do to him if they knew what he was up too, Draco returned to _A Beginner's Guide to Protective Wards_.

* * *

Uncaring, or maybe just unaware, of his dismissal from his second-cousin's mind, Regulus Black finished the silencing spells on the drapes over his mother's portrait. More than once he had wondered if she perhaps carried Banshee blood – it wasn't uncommon in the early days of magic for wizards to intermarry with other magical beings. These spells should keep her from disturbing the rest Sirius so desperately needed. By the same token, not being able to hear her sons and elf arguing ought to give Walburga some peace.

Sirius was not pleased to be back in Grimmauld Place. The only things that had kept him from storming out the door were the facts that Regulus had locked the door, Sirius didn't have a wand, and anyway, Sirius couldn't stand up yet. Regulus had so far managed to keep his brother under control by asking, "Sirius, would you _really_ prefer to be back in Azkaban? Because I can send you back if you _really_ want to go."

Not that he would. He'd put himself in a tough position to get Sirius out of Azkaban, and there was no chance of him throwing his brother back into Hell just because Sirius didn't like his new location any more.

Regulus wondered what had possessed him to do this now, of all times. It wasn't that rubbish about sentences he'd told Sirius in the cell, though that was part of it. How was he supposed to keep Dumbledore from tricking Harry Potter into fighting the Dark Lord to protect a fake Philosopher's Stone, when he couldn't even fire-flash to Hogwarts without risking his brother's life?

"Blood traitor should not be in mistress' house," Kreacher muttered resentfully, appearing at Regulus' elbow with lunch in hand. "Master Regulus should do as blood traitor wishes and throw him out. Kreacher's mistress will not be pleased. Kreacher's mistress's portrait should not be silenced."

"Thank you for bringing me lunch, Kreacher. And do not remove the enchantments on these curtains." Regulus sighed as the elf vanished. Kreacher had been following his orders to the letter, but still managed to get around them.

Since he couldn't speak while inside of it, Kreacher had stood on the threshold of Sirius' room yelling insults until Regulus had ordered him to be quiet, and now had a habit of whispering insults from the doorway instead. Regulus was debating whether he should order Kreacher to stop talking entirely, or just tell the elf to stay off the floor of the house that Sirius was staying on.

Regulus desperately wished that his father hadn't been quite so paranoid – a portrait of Orion would have been useful for maintaining calm. Orion had been a very practical, no-nonsense kind of man. He'd known how to keep control of his elf's instability, his firstborn's attitude, Regulus' eccentricities, and even Walburga's temper.

"How did you do it?" With no portrait to ask, Regulus instead addressed his question to the ceiling.

As expected, there was no answer.

* * *

_Headmaster,_

_In light of Sirius Black's escape, I will be arriving at Hogwarts to act as a bodyguard of sorts to Harry Potter, and his cousin Dudley to a lesser extant._

_The Dursleys' are on my side in this matter, and if you will not allow it, Harry and Dudley will both be removed from Hogwarts and placed somewhere where I will be allowed to protect them._

_Respectfully,_

_Remus Lupin_

* * *

Author's Note: Again, BIG STRONG LOUD POWERFUL APOLOGIES that I took this long to update. 


	10. Conspiracy

Final Harry Potter book comes out TOMORROW! I'm staying up till midnight just so this'll be (one of) the last HP fic(s) updated before the seventh book comes out!

Weird? Obsessive? Why, yes I am – how kind of you to notice.

My disclaimer says

I don't own Harry Potter,

But I wish I did

* * *

**Conspiracy**

Darkness, again. Garlic, again. This time Harry was more focused on small details, so he was able to realize that the darkness was caused by _something_ over his face rather than a lack of light.

There was a scuttling sound somewhere in front of him, and he was turned away from the sound.

"_Wh-who's there?"_ The frightened voice seemed to come from the back of his head. It gasped. _"Y-y-you! B-but – you're dead!"_

"_A lot of people think that."_ Harry didn't know this voice, but it chilled him. _"My fight isn't with you, Quirrel. Stupefy."_

The dream ended abruptly.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew was many things; among them, a klutz, an Animagus, an ex-Marauder, a Death Eater, a murderer, a supposedly dead man, and a pet rat. How the last one had happened he wasn't quite sure. But however well he had acted the part in the past, Peter was not a fool. And although only a handful of people knew about it, he was a competent exorcist.

That same handful of people also knew that he was an Unspeakable.

He'd been part of a small, elite subdivision in the Department of Mysteries. Purpose: infiltrate any underground organization that might be a threat to magical society, and bring it down from within. There had been five others in his team. Two had infiltrated the Order of the Phoenix, another two had infiltrated the Death Eaters, and Peter had infiltrated both. The final team member kept in the background, made sure all the information they gathered fit together, and generally acted as the team strategist.

_He was also the only one who came out of the war unscathed,_ Peter noted bitterly.

But this wasn't getting him anywhere. He had a new plan, one he didn't need the others for.

Voldemort already fulfilled the prophecy and physically died at Harry's hand that Hallowe'en. Two, possibly three, of the Horcruxes were already dealt with. But even if there were more to destroy, even if Voldemort couldn't _die_, that didn't mean what of his soul was left couldn't be exorcised. If Peter could send this soul fragment to the other side, he could hunt down the remaining Horcruxes at his leisure.

So now Peter, aka Wormtail, aka Scabbers, was under a disillusionment Charm, dragging Quirrel and Voldemort to the Room of Requirement for an exorcism.

_I should have thought of this _years_ ago…_

* * *

Quirrel was found early in the morning, unconscious, half-dead, and turban-less, by the Fat Friar. The ghost promptly dispatched the nearest portrait to fetch Madame Pomfrey, while he rushed to alert the Headmaster.

"I just don't know _what_ to make of it, Albus, I really don't," he lamented as he led the old man to the Hospital Wing. "The poor man's clearly been through the mill, but I can't tell what could've happened to him. He doesn't seem injured, more like … exhausted."

"You say you found him outside the Come And Go Room. Did you check inside the room to see if it held a clue?"

"I tried, Headmaster, but it became an empty, round room, with no distinguishing features."

"None at all?"

"No, sir. I do hope Madame Pomfrey can tell us what's wrong with the professor."

Well, she knew what it looked like, but that didn't explain much.

"If I were to take a guess, Albus," – oh, how she hated relying on guesswork – "I'd say he's been exorcised. Whatever happened, I doubt he'll be up to teaching again for a few months at least."

"I see." Albus polished his glasses as he thought through this latest development.

Perhaps he could work this out …

_

* * *

_

_I'm afraid I cannot allow you to come to Hogwarts strictly to act as a bodyguard. However, would you consider being our substitute Defence Against the Dark Arts professor instead? Our current professor has been forced to take an unexpected leave of absence for his health. As a professor, you would be much less conspicuous, and your presence would be far easier to explain._

_Hoping you find this agreeable,_

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Remus Lupin had to admit surprise. He'd expected a lot more protest, for some reason. He sent back a quick affirmative and resumed packing his bags.

* * *

WHAT ARE YOU DOING SITTING AT YOUR COMPUTER READING FANFICTION?! GO READ HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS!

Once you've finished, feel free to hurt me for this deus ex machina, but I needed to get rid of Voldemort in a creative way. He's at his weakest just now – SOMEONE had to take advantage of it. Besides, this Unspeakable Conspiracy (pun intended) is important later. Plus I need Remus at Hogwarts, preferably in a position of authority, for later events to be set in motion.

**According to my computer, I posted this at 11:59 pm, July 20th.**


	11. Nighttime Antics

Yes, I'm borrowing Ms Rowling's characters, and if she takes offence, she can sue me. You are not her, so you can't.

**

* * *

**

Dreams, Memories and Night-time Antics

"_Sirius." He paused in his packing. "Come with me."_

_Sixteen-year-old Sirius eyed his father curiously, but got up and followed him. Orion led him up to the attic. The two walked and climbed in silence; then, on the final staircase, Orion softly broke it._

"_I know you and Walburga have your differences."_

_**Oh, no, not one of **__**those**__** lectures …**_

"_That's what happens when two strong personalities collide, I suppose…"_

_**And here it comes … 'obey your elders', 'respect your family's bloody **__**heritage**__**', 'at least **__**try**__** to get along with her'**__**…**_

"_And frankly, Sirius, I don't think it's going to get better between you two."_

_**Damn bloody right it's not. Why'd you think I was leaving?**_

"_I'm not going to disown you, and I don't want you to feel I'm kicking you out …"_

_**All right, what in hell is going on here?**_

"_But … I think it might be best for everyone if you got away. If only for a while."_

… _**What?**_

_**Did he just say what I think he said?**_

"_In light of that …" Orion opened the attic door and sighed, then turned to smile sadly at his firstborn. "Happy birthday, Sirius."_

…

"_Is that a __**motorcycle**__?"_

"_A __**flying**__ motorcycle. I know how you feel about broomsticks." Too narrow and breakable and easily blown out from under you. "I was planning to give it to you on your seventeenth birthday, but with things the way they are … I didn't think waiting a year was a good idea."_

_The bike was huge, black with silver chrome, a large and incongruous red and gold bow tied festively around the handlebars. (This was, Sirius noticed, the first time he'd seen red in this house that wasn't blood or in his own room.) A helmet, also black, was perched on the leather seat._

"_It has an invisibility booster, as many protective enchantments as I dared put on it, and it can carry the weight of two bull elephants – not that I recommend carrying elephants around. I expect you to wear that helmet while riding, whether you're on the ground or not." _

_Orion pulled a small package, red with a gold ribbon, out of his robe pocket and pressed it into Sirius' hands. His son unwrapped … a guidebook on the proper maintenance and riding techniques for his motorcycle, and a masterfully done license of ownership and use, with his name and unmoving picture – "In case the Muggle … please-men … pull you over."_

"_Father …" Sirius searched for the right words, but eventually had to settle for, "Thank you."_

"_So." He jerked his head to see Regulus in the doorframe behind them, carrying Sirius' trunk. The redhead's face and voice were blank. "You're leaving."_

"_Yeah."_

_Gully held out the trunk and Sirius reached to take it. For a second their eyes met and he saw something – a challenge? a plea? – flash across his little brother's face._

"_Kreacher and I finished packing for you. He's so happy you're going, he didn't even try to sneak anything nasty into it."_

"… _Thanks, Gull – Regulus," he corrected himself._

"_Bye, Snuffles. Happy Birthday."_

_Regulus left. Orion flicked his wand, tying the trunk to the back of the new bike, and Sirius got on, pulling the helmet down on his head but raising the visor to say goodbye._

"_It was partly his idea, you know," Orion commented. "To get you this … machine. Take care of it, alright? And yourself."_

"_I will."  
_

"_Do you know where you're going?"_

"_Well enough to get there in one piece."_

" … _Goodbye, Sirius."_

" … _Goodbye, Father. And … thanks."_

_He revved the engine and punched the invisibility booster. Orion cast a spell on the skylight, opening it wide enough for Sirius and his bike. The dark-haired teenager flew away and didn't look back._

Trapped once more in the house he thought he'd escaped forever, Sirius Black woke up and smiled at his first good dream and happy memory in years.

A few floors below him, Regulus dug through the glass-fronted cabinets in the drawing room, wearing thick gloves as a precaution against some of his mother's more volatile possessions. Where was it? He knew it had to be in here _somewhere_, he'd left very clear instructions … ah. His hand closed around an old chain and a few tugs revealed the locket of Slytherin.

"Kreacher."

_CRACK_!

The elf took one look at the locket in his master's hand and began sobbing wild apologies. Regulus had to drop the artefact and grab his elf to keep the hysterical servant from beating himself up.

"Kreacher, it's okay, I'm not angry with you, I'm sure you did all you could – Kreacher, _stop hurting yourself_." He let go and gently rubbed the elf's back until the sobbing quieted. "Feel better?" Kreacher made a soft choking sound and Regulus sat on the floor, pulling the old elf onto his lap and cuddling him like a child. "Kreacher, I forbid you to punish yourself unless directly ordered to do so, by me. And _if_ that order is given, you will be told what your punishment will be, and you are forbidden to exceed or add to it. Understood?"

"Yes, Master Regulus," said Kreacher dully.

"Good. Now, Kreacher, I have a task for you." Calling on all his limited skills of manipulation, he added, "If you can't, I'm sure Sirius could do it instead."

Kreacher, now under orders to say nothing to or about Sirius that he wouldn't about Walburga or Orion, scowled but kept quiet. Regulus picked the locket back up.

"I'm going to become a bird – a phoenix – and put this locket on. When I chirp, I need you, without touching the locket or its chain, to snap my neck and jump back as quick as you can." Before the elf could have a total panic attack, Regulus added, "I _can't die_, Kreacher, I'm a phoenix – an immortal. I want to see if phoenix fire can break this thing. If not I'll have to find a basilisk fang or something … bloody _hell_, I wish I could contact Peter," he added in a mutter. "So, will you do it?"

"If Master is _sure_ Master won't be hurt … Kreacher will."

"You're a good elf, Kreacher; I owe you for this." Regulus shifted to his Animagus form, tossing the necklace before his hands changed and hopping awkwardly to catch it around his neck. He chirped.

The ancient elf delicately grasped the base of the phoenix's skull and gave it a sharp twist, offering an apologetic sob. There was a _snap_ and a _fwoosh_ and Kreacher jumped out of range of the flames.

Regulus felt like a white-hot wire had been pressed to the back of his neck. It was the same sensation he'd gotten twelve or so years ago from Bellatrix's killing curse. The pain vanished in seconds, and the warmth of his own fire surrounded him like a dry sauna.

Once the blaze had died down, Regulus shifted back to human and felt a cold metallic weight over his heart.

"_DAMN IT TO THE DEEPEST CIRCLE OF BLOODY FLAMING HELL!"_

* * *

Dudley woke up to a rustle and several thumps. Ron was crawling out from under his bed and beginning to search under Dean's. Moonlight caught his face and revealed slightly puffy, reddened eyes.

"You okay, Ron?"

The other boy jumped, but seemed too upset to really care that he'd woken someone.

"I can't find Scabbers! He wasn't on my trunk where he usually sleeps and he wasn't on the sheets or under the bed either!"

Dudley rolled out from under his warm covers to join the search.

"I'm sure he'll turn up, Ron. An animal that small can squeeze in almost anywhere." That last part had sounded a lot more comforting inside Dudley's head.

"What if someone's cat gets him? Or an owl? Or Filch spots him and puts out traps?" Ron moaned suddenly. "Percy's going to kill me. Scabbers was his rat."

"Maybe he went to Percy's dorm, then," Dudley suggested. "I've heard of dogs doing stuff like that, going 'home' to their old owners."

"Good idea." Ron got up and feverishly made for the door. "I'll go check – "

"Wait." Dudley squinted at the clock on his bedside table, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him, then checked the windows; it was still dark. "Ron, it's four in the morning. Percy won't thank you for waking him, nor will his dorm mates. Let's make a plan before we get anyone else up – when did you last see Scabbers?"

"Sometime before yesterday. I didn't even really notice at first he was gone, he's so quiet and lazy, and then I woke up and realized …" Ron gestured helplessly.

"If he's been gone for a couple days he may've gotten to the kitchens. How about I search the Common Room? Once your brothers wake up we can ask Percy if he's seen Scabbers lately, then we can ask the twins where the kitchens are. If we don't find him tonight we can put up 'Missing Pet' flyers or something."

Ron nodded, looking relieved, and all but bowed Dudley out the door as he went back to searching under beds.

_Maybe the twins kidnapped Scabbers as a joke …better not suggest that to Ron or Percy, though. Neville might have some tips for finding pets what with how Trevor keeps vanishing. Now, if I were a rat in the Common Room, where would I be?_

Dudley went on his hands and knees, checking under furniture, pulling out cushions the check _inside_ the furniture, and paranoidly checking the rugs for suspicious lumps before lifting them anyway, just in case.

"What are you doing?" Dudley jumped and banged his head on the edge of a low table. Some forgotten textbook teetered and fell, giving Dudley's blond head a second smack.

"Oh – hullo, Percy."

He got to his feet with his practised innocent smile (but not too innocent, which would look faked), then snatched up the book and replaced it on the table, now grinning like a loon.

Percy wore his prefect badge on his dressing gown and a scowl on his face. He crossed his arms as he stared Dudley down.

"What are you doing up, Dursley?"

"Er …" Not wanting to get Ron in trouble, Dudley fell back on his and Harry's old habit of half-truth. "One of my dorm mates lost his pet and I'm helping search. I figured if I came into the Common Room early enough I wouldn't have to disturb anyone." Percy raised an eyebrow.

_I wish I could raise just one eyebrow like that._

"It's not in here, so – I'll just – go, now. G'night!" Dudley bolted past Percy and up the stairs to his dorm. Ron looked up hopefully. Dudley shook his head. "No luck. I looked everywhere I can think of, then Percy showed up – I didn't tell him," he added hastily. Ron sighed and looked deflated.

"Thanks, Dudley."

* * *

Sorry I haven't updated in ... geez, that's a long time. This, as you can see, is a filler chapter to insert some details and get my creative juices flowing again. Hopefully some actual story progress can be made in the coming months.

For my Animorphs fans, **those stories are not abandoned**. They should be updated sometime before Christmas, although that will likely also be a filler chapter.


	12. Remus' Return

**Remus' Return to Hogwarts – Part One: Getting In and Bumping Into People**

It was one of those piercing bright winter days when the snow and sky conspire to blind everyone with the audacity to look directly at them. The air even smelled sharp. Remus absentmindedly wished he'd worn sunglasses. Cherry didn't seem to notice anything amiss as she frolicked in the snowdrifts on either side of the path, barking. The werewolf smiled at his excited pet – Cherry loved being off her leash, and for whatever reason winter seemed to be her favourite season.

He had managed to get a Portkey to Hogsmeade and was now walking up to the school. The scenery was quiet and peaceful, and when he wasn't making sure Cherry wasn't up to mischief he let his mind wander freely.

The other Marauders had teased him about how he was bound to become a teacher when he grew up – "And of course, you're the only one who actually _will_ grow up," Sirius would always add. Remus' eyes stung, and he told himself it was from the glare and the wind, even though everything but him and his dog was still.

I wonder how the boys are holding up? He hadn't told them he was coming, deciding that stealth would be a much better way to keep an eye on them … perhaps he could get the Map back from Filch. If some clever student hadn't somehow liberated it, at least.

He hoped his predecessor had left some manner of lesson plan. It was two days until term started up again and he hadn't had time to plan anything. _I suppose I can always just spend the first class teaching about werewolves,_ he thought with an ironic smirk.

There was another round of barks, these ones deeper than he thought Cherry's voice could go … Remus looked around. Ah, yes, there was Fang. Hagrid had adopted the boarhound puppy the day before Harry had been born. Now the black blur was bounding across the ground to greet the newcomers, Hagrid not far behind.

"Remus Lupin!" he roared, and threw his arms around the younger man. Fang and Cherry were going through the traditional doggy greetings and apparently decided they liked each other. "Dumbledore told me yeh were comin'. Here, lemme help with tha'." He picked up the heavy trunk Remus had dropped to return the hug and lifted it like a bag of feathers.

"Thanks, Hagrid … it's good to be back at Hogwarts!" Remus smiled fondly up at the castle.

"Sure yer nephews'll be glad ter see yeh, too," said Hagrid amiably, resuming the trek through the snow.

"Neph – oh, Harry and Dudley? Do you see much of them?"

"More so Dudley, Harry sorta follows his lead. Haven't seen either of 'em since Christmas and – y'know." Remus nodded. An escaped murderer would tend to keep students inside the school. "'Fore then, I had Dudley down by me hut every other weekend, and Harry a' least once a month. Sometimes a few o' their friends, too. Decent kids."

"Was there every any doubt?"

"No' so much with Harry, I remember his folks and even 'im when he was just a wee little thing. But Dudley … ter be honest, Remus, I had me doubts 'bout Dumbledore leavin' Harry with those Muggles, an' then I caught Dudley pokin' 'round on the edge o' the forest – stopped him 'fore he could go in, o' course. But he's a good lad, great with animals, and if Dudley's parents are anythin' the like o' their boy, I'll say Dumbledore made the bes' decision."

The dogs, probably playing some variety of 'tag', raced between their owners. Following in Hagrid's wake, Remus no longer had to wade through the snow and was making good time on this last leg of his journey.

"That Draco, now _he_ was a surprise," Hagrid continued. "Never thought I'd meet a decent Malfoy. 'M glad, though, seein' he's in Harry's dorm."

"Yes, it's good to know Harry has somebody to watch his back. He and Dudley sounded happy in their letters."

Hagrid grunted and shoved at the door, then remembered it opened outward and yanked on it.

"Yeh'll be goin' ter the Headmaster's office first?"

"I know the way, Hagrid." He smiled and admitted, "What I don't know is the password."

The massive man shrugged.

"Keep guessin' Muggle sweets. Las' time I was there it was min'-chocolate truffles."

"Thanks, Hagrid." Remus took back his trunk – a Christmas gift from Vernon and Petunia two or three years ago, along with a week-long vacation at a Spanish resort to thank him for all the babysitting he'd done – and started climbing the first of many, many staircases. Cherry, finding herself inside a strange and confusing place, attached herself to his side.

"All anyone would have to do," he overheard a young female voice explaining somewhere along his route, "is dose everyone in school with an emotional suppressant, or even just a powerful Calming Draught. Poof – no more poltergeist."

"Wouldn't that be unhealthy, though?"

Dudley? Was that Dudley's voice?

"Oh, incredibly. I'm not saying it's a good idea, just saying it would work."

Dudley almost walked straight past Remus and Cherry, engaged in conversation with a black-haired girl about the various ways to get rid of poltergeists. He froze in mid-step and did a comical double-take.

"Uncle Remus?"

"Hullo, Dudley."

Even without his cousin there to join in, Dudley still seemed to think tackling Remus made the most appropriate greeting.

"It is so great to see you – what're you doing here – ?" The boy froze up. "Did something happen to my parents?"

"No, no, nothing's happened to them – Headmaster Dumbledore invited me to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, since Professor Quirrel apparently had to take a leave of absence."

"Why didn't he ask Professor Snape?" inquired the girl, reminding Dudley of her presence.

"I'm not sure," Remus admitted.

"Oh, Uncle Remus, this is Sandy Quartz. She's in Slytherin with Harry."

"Who speaks highly of you," Sandy added, holding out a hand for the werewolf to shake.

"Nice to meet you, Sandy – " (the handshake was firm but brief) " – If you two will excuse me I still need to inform Dumbledore I'm here."

"And we'll go tell Harry you're here," Dudley agreed. "Hey, Cherry," he added, scratching the dog's ears and getting his hand licked. Sandy smiled and offered her hand for the dog to sniff, getting licked as well, before the younger pair made to leave.

Sandy froze after taking two steps.

"_Both traitors are loyal. At least one intends to set things right._" Her voice was strange, like someone else was forcing their words through her throat. Her eyes had drifted out of focus as she spoke. Now she blinked and continued to walk like nothing had happened.

"Sandra!" called Dudley, startled.

"Yes?"

"What was that?"

"What?"

"Y-you froze up and said – something – and then you blinked and started moving again."

"Oh." Sounding almost as confused as they were, she stopped walking and turned around. "Well, Granddad will be pleased. There's a drop or two of Seer blood in the family, so – "

"Wait." Something clicked in Remus' memories. "Quartz? Any relation to Nigel Quartz?"

"Yeah, that's Dad."

"He used to say there were Seers in his family," Remus mused aloud. "I suppose he was right. I mean … to be honest, Divination and all that never struck me as …"

"Plausible?" Sandy offered. "Keep it vague enough and anything can mean anything else, especially if you use metaphors. What'd I say?"

"Something about traitors being loyal and setting things right." Dudley frowned. "Like you said, that could mean almost anything."

"Weird." Sandra shrugged it off. "Prophecies are usually self-fulfilling. Unless I revealed a cure for a disease or something, I don't think we need to bother spreading this around. C'mon, Dud, let's find Harry, he's probably in the library. Again."

"Or still," Dudley added in a mutter. He offered Remus a helpless shrug before following his future-telling friend.

Remus shook it off as one of the many quirks of living in magical society and continued on his way to the Headmaster's office, dog still on his heels.

"Remus Lupin?"

Two corridors to go and he was waylaid by one of his new colleagues.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall."

"You needn't use formalities anymore, Remus, I haven't taught you in years. Albus told me you'd be joining the staff; as such you may call me Minerva."

Cherry barked a greeting, perhaps somehow smelling McGonagall's cat-Animagus form, but more likely wanting attention from this new person. McGonagall looked startled.

"I must confess, Remus, you never struck me as the animal-keeping type."

"Yes, well … do you remember how Lily used to look at people when she really wanted something?" McGonagall's expression softened and she nodded fondly. "Her son inherited that skill. It was impossible to refuse him … though I'll confess," he added, a touch ruefully, "I'd expected the spell to wear off in a few weeks at most."

"What spell?"

"This," scratching his dog's ears like she always enjoyed, "is Cherry. She was a stick, presumably from the cherry tree in my back yard, that Harry transfigured into a puppy."

McGonagall's eyes widened behind her spectacles.

"Mr Potter is one of the most gifted Transfiguration students I've ever taught, but – when did he do this?"

Remus frowned and started counting back.

"About six years ago, when he was five. It was summer then, so it would be six and a half years."

A woman with less self-control than Minerva McGonagall would have gaped open-mouthed at Remus for some time.

"A five-year-old boy Transfigured an inanimate object into a living creature that survives to this day?"

"Said that way I suppose it does seem hard to believe."

"Is he intending to pursue Transfiguration as a career?"

"I … don't know. Isn't he a little young to be planning for that?"

"Remus Lupin, it is a _crime_ to let a talent of this nature go to waste! I must speak to Mr Potter … beginning this term I will offer him extra lessons in Transfiguration, perhaps even an apprenticeship if everything works out …"

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Remus turned on his heel to see Severus Snape approaching fast, face like a thundercloud.

"Severus, I – "

"Severus!" Minerva stepped around the werewolf, positively starry-eyed with excitement. "I must discuss with you one of your Slytherins, I believe he may have great potential – "

"Not _now_, Minerva, I want to know – "

"Professors!"

Reflexively, all three of them turned, Minerva and Severus to the title, Remus to the sudden sound.

A pale boy with white-blond hair, probably a first-year by his height, was shaking at the end of the corridor.

"Mr Malfoy, what on earth is the matter?" Minerva demanded.

"Professor Snape – Madam Pomfrey said to find you, but you weren't in the dungeons – something's wrong, some students got sick and Pepper-Up potions just made things worse – "

Snape took off, Lupin forgotten, the pale boy on his tail.

"Every year," Minerva muttered, watching him go. "Every year we find a handful of students allergic to Pepper-Up potions. Every year I suggest we remove it from the infirmary, but Poppy refuses and Severus won't stop _brewing_ it …"

"The students should be fine, then?"

"Oh, they will be; between Poppy and Severus they'll make a full recovery."

"It's been lovely seeing you, Pr – Minerva – but I really must be getting to the Headmaster's office."

"Good day, then, Remus."

Now, what had Hagrid said the password was?


End file.
